She slid her hands down the quivering spine, sucking in her breath sharply as they curved under and shaped themselves to the soft and supple buttock globes. Such a superb ass, such gloriously developed asscheeks! She could feel them twitching stiffly against the pressure, resisting the clutch of her fingers but already yielding gradually, unable to maintain the rigid muscular contraction-yielding ever more noticeably even as the muttered denials singed her ear. Their bodies were grinding together, one forceful, one reluctant, grinding through the tiered fabric of feminine garments, belly to belly.
Chapter One
The kid still seemed pretty nervous, but in her own kittenish way she wasn't offering much resistance, Nor had Sherry expected her to, really, at least none that couldn't be overcome in a hurry. A weekend away from school was simply too precious; skittish or not, little Cynthia knew darn well what they were here for. Or if she didn't by this time ...
"Hey!"
"S'matter?"
"Don't. You know. Please don't."
"Hmm? This?"
"Oooh!" Then, giggling, "I-I'm ticklish."
But it was only a token protest, of course, all blushes and giggles, and Sherry easily saw through the mixture of coy curiosity and phony innocence. No problem. She would soon have this timid little bunny rabbit nibbling from her fingertips. Just being alone like this-safe and snug here in the Paris apartment-was half the battle. No stern headmistress, no snoopy teachers, no sanctimonious proctors to worry about; what a relief to be out of Switzerland and away from that atmosphere of scholastic discipline.
Better yet, they even had the place to themselves, the entire apartment for the weekend. Quite conveniently, Mummy was off on a jaunt to the south- Biarritz or Cannes or somesuch-with her latest lover, the guy with the Ferrari. And she wouldn't be getting back anytime within these next few days. Not that her absence made that much difference, actually-Sherry was an old hand at entertaining her schoolmates and seldom failed to get chummy with them even when her mother was around. Aside from keeping the noise down, there weren't many taboos in the privacy of her own room. Mummy didn't pry, luckily, and was just too busy with her own lovelife to fret about what went on behind her darling daughter's closed door. So the weekend would have been a success regardless, especially since this cute bundle of fluff was already showing unmistakable signs of living up to expectations.
Just the same, though, having the run of the whole apartment was a pleasant prospect, and Sherry intended taking every advantage of the situation. There was no need for quiet now, the two of them might laugh or moan or scream and nobody would be the wiser. They could sit right here in the living room stark naked. Or in the kitchen. Anywhere in the house. Once their clothes were off. in fact, she could see no reason why they shouldn't remain that way. Wouldn't it be fun. A nude weekend? Two young girls naked and ready for love at any minute of the day or night! Wouldn't that be lovely?
Mmm, yes. Fun. Delicious fun.
Only she'd better stop laying plans and just settle down to business. It was time for decisive action. Like this! Uh-huh. No, she hadn't misjudged the kid, not if that obvious reaction meant anything- the way those soft legs were yielding so eagerly, pretty sexy for a supposedly demure English virgin. No doubt about it, Cynthia knew" the score sure enough; the little slut was still giggling, but there was a kind of breathless impatience now, a provocative wriggling. As though it wouldn't take much more than this one touch of her cunt ...
"Oh! Felicia!"
That tore it. Of all the stupid things to say! And at such an unforgivable moment, too, just when they were about to make the first big move toward a wild and wonderful weekend.
With a sigh of exasperation, Sherry pulled her hand back. "Don't call me Felicia. Do I have to tell you again?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it just slipped out. When you touched me like that, well-you know what I mean. I just couldn't think. And I'm so used to hearing all the teachers at school call you-"
"Never mind the teachers. We're in Paris now, not Switzerland. So let me say it once more, just in case, huh? My name is Felicia Sheridan Bartholomew- and in the classroom I'm stuck with it. But not here. Understand? Now do you know what to call me?"
"Of course. I'm sorry, Sherry."
"Okay. Just don't let it happen again."
"I won't. Anyway, I'll try not to. But you can't exactly blame me, can you? It-it gave me such a shock. Your hand, I mean. I didn't know what I was saying.
"You were shocked? Because of what I did?"
"Well, uh, it took me by surprise. You were just tickling me-and then all of a sudden ... well ... "
"You didn't like it?"
"I-I didn't say that."
"Then you did like it."
Cynthia lowered her gaze shyly. But the very gesture was accomplished with a kind of arch acquiescence. As if she had the desire but lacked the audacity to speak up and declare herself. The import of 'her message certainly came through, though-the kid was anxious to pick up the pieces and continue. Anxious to smooth over the interruption and go right on. With her twitchy limbs still apart and hopeful, apparently.
But the implied urgency made no dent on Sherry. She had lost her passionate mood and was in no great rush to regain it. Now that the happy weekend plans were assured, just about, she could afford to relax and wait for the craving to come upon her again. The sense of hot immediacy had cooled somewhat.
"Sherry?"
"Yeah."
"Aren't you going to ... uh ... "
"Not now, sweetie. Time out for a cigarette. Want one?"
"Thanks, no." Cynthia sniffed petulantly.
"Why the sad face? You impatient?"
"N-no. Not really. I just don't understand, that's all. Are you still angry because I called you Felicia?"
"Oh shit, of course not. But it did slow me down, I'll admit."
"I think that's silly, Why should it be so important? Do you hate the name that much?"
"Hate the name? Hmm. I hadn't thought of it like that. I just like Sherry better. My mother was a Sheridan, you know. They go all the way back to the early settlers. And that means something in the United States."
"Oh, you're such snobs, you Americans. Far more so than we British. My father is a member of the peerage, but you never hear me bragging about it, do you?" Cynthia's eyes narrowed. "What about your father, isn't he supposed to be a tycoon or something?"
"Uh-huh. Businessman. Rich."
"You don't sound very proud of him."
"Why should I be? Just because he's got money?"
"No, not just that. But he is your father." Sherry snorted disdainfully. "Okay, so he's my father. He went to bed with my mother and nine months later I was born. Big deal. I haven't seen him since the divorce, and that was years ago. So why should I give a damn about him?"
"Oh. I-I didn't know."
"Well, you do now. He was nasty to my mother and I'll never forgive him for that. But the only time I ever think about it is when we get a check on the first of every month. Aside from that, he means nothing to me."
"Nothing?" There was amusement in Cynthia's sly smirk.
"What are you wearing that dopey grin for?"
"The way you're getting so worked up, that's what. Now I know why you don't like the name Felicia."
"Huh? What's that got to do with it?"
"Everything. You were named after your father, that's why. Remember when he got married last year? It was in the newspapers and I heard the teachers talking about him. Felix Bartholomew. I'll bet that's the reason you-"
"Shit! Don't be ridiculous. I just think one name is nicer than the other, that's all. My mother has always called me Sherry and that's the one I prefer. So let's just forget it, huh? What are you trying to do, spoil our weekend? Keep this up and you'll sure as hell make a mess of things."
The girl pouted prettily, apologetic now. "Please don't be angry, I won't mention it again. You don't realize how I've looked forward to this holiday. I can't get away from school as often as you. I had to write home for my parents' permission, you know."
"Yeah. They all do. Except me. I'm allowed to leave any weekend I want to-unless it's near exam time, natch. My mother arranged it with the headmistress."
"You're lucky."
"Lucky is right. That damn school is so strict. I'd crack up if I couldn't blow off steam once in a while. Like now. Honey, we're going to have fun, you and me, just the two of us."
"Oh. No boys?"
"Nope. Too risky. Besides, you ought to remain true to that boyfriend of yours back home, the one you kept talking about on the train. So it'll be just us girls, no boys. But don't worry, we'll still have fun. You'll see."
"I-I hope so." Then, brightening expectantly, "I could use a little fun."
"Uh-huh. And I know what kind."
"Sherry ... any kind is all right with me, can't you tell? When you put your hand down there awhile ago ... "
"I figured that. You've done it before, huh? You're no beginner, I'll bet, not with that dreamy look on your face. Where did it happen? At school? In the dormitory?"
"Good heavens, no! I wouldn't dare. The way they enforce those rules, it's worse than a prison." Cynthia shuddered and then smiled, her voice sinking to a confidential murmur. "But we used to have a servant at home. The upstairs maid. She's the one who showed me what it's like."
"A maid? Right in your own house? Hey, that must have been something. Was she pretty?"
"Sure. Not as pretty as you, though. But she had your coloring, the same blue eyes and black hair. Only she was much bigger and heavier, a real country peasant type-her breasts were enormous, the biggest I've ever seen. That was why she got sacked, I think. Daddy couldn't keep from goggling at them."
"Big tits, huh? Sounds like quite a story. Tell me more."
"About how she lost her job?"
"No, you ninny, who cares about that? Tell me what happened when the two of you got together. What did she do to you?"
There was a moment of hesitation. "It-it's hard to talk like this. I just can't. Not sitting here as if we were balancing teacups on our knees. I'd be too embarrassed."
Sherry grinned, reading a covert plea for sympathy in the bashful glance. And yet there were traces of ecstasy still lingering on the girl's features. An intriguing combination, actually-modesty coupled with erotic memories. Recollections of the juicy past too thrilling to utter aloud in the arid present. The upstairs maid. Imagine! Oh shit, she could hardly wait to hear the gory details. But first the present would have to be made less arid. And it was time. She could feel the excitement again. The craving. The passionate mood was back, returning stronger than ever.
No more balancing of teacups then, even invisible ones. Boldly, with an air of resolution, she slid close and pulled her tensed-up little schoolmate into a firm embrace. The willing body went limp in her arms. Still a timid bunny rabbit, no doubt, but obviously hoping to be petted now. And in a sudden surge of tenderness, Sherry buried her nose in the soft hair.
It was nice. It smelled clean and sweet. But she felt a certain disappointment somehow, these clipped curls were too much like her own. Too much like all the others that were kept trimmed by school regulations that even dictated the length of a student's locks. The sweetly scented hair should have been long and silky.
But it wasn't. And the tender moment passed as she moved her hand in a purposeful thrust. At least those hairs were silky; thank goodness they couldn't regulate that! A silky-soft cunt squirming around her fingers ...
Cynthia groaned, stiffening in what appeared to be a spasm of rigid resistance. But it was only a brief flash-involuntary, more than likely-and then she warmed to the touch compliantly, melting and drooping in boneless fluidity.
"Okay. Tell me."
"Hmm? Sherry?"
"You know. About the maid."
"Oh. You mean now?"
"Uh-huh. Now." Then, fluttering- her fingertips, "Come on. sugar, the whole story. What did she do to you? What did she make you do to her? And you'd better not skip any of the hot parts, you hear? Tell me everything."
The girl twitched convulsively. "But-but how can I? How can I talk when you're-"
"Tell me!"
"Ouch! Oh. all right. I'll try. Don't tease, though. Just let me catch my breath, will you?"
Sherry waited, her hand unrelenting. Giddy bubbles of anticipation floated inside her head, anticipation not only for the forthcoming tale but for the entire weekend. She knew now that her companion had been well and wisely chosen. The best of the bunch, possibly. This cute little English miss-so prim and proper in school-was a treasure-trove of sensuality. All she needed was a bit of prompting.
And having the apartment all to themselves was going to be just heavenly. They were reaping the benefits already, using the living room like this without fear of consequences. Soon they might be rolling around on the carpet. And afterward the two of them could even take a bath together. Right in the same tub. Wash each other's tits and cunts maybe, wouldn't that be a new twist?
But those things would come later. Cynthia had begun her story at last. Her reedy tone was thin and quavering, but it gained volume as she got into the right spirit. After a while her eyelids flickered and sank shut, giving her face an expression of rapture glowing from within. As if she was breaching time and distance and seeing the past in the mirror of her mind. It was coming alive for her. As real and alive as the fingers in her flesh, probably-that was how she sounded now. Hot and sexy, the saga of the upstairs maid ...
Then-of all the bad timing!-everything fell apart as the phone burst into a shrill clamor for attention. Sherry was tempted to ignore it, what with the telephone system of Paris practically a network of wrong numbers. But the monologue had halted and the rapturous glow was already fading; anyway, the jingle-jangle was simply too loud to laugh off. Shit! Might as well answer the damned thing, now that the damage was done.
She picked it up, muttering. And then, as the grave voice of French officialdom began droning over the wire, she reeled and blanched and tried to make sense out of what could only be senseless. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. No! She bit her lips, holding back a scream and waiting for someone to say it was all a lousy joke.
Cynthia grabbed her by the shoulder. "Hey, what is it? What's the matter? You look so-"
"Mummy ... " And with a wail of anguish, Sherry spoke the awful words that she still couldn't make herself believe. "The car turned over. Mummy. My mother. Accident ... "
"Your mother was in an accident?"
"She-she's dead!"
Chapter Two
In a way, oddly enough, the news bothered Angela a lot more than it did her husband. And she didn't even know the woman. Felix Bartholomew's first wife belonged to a past era, almost ancient history. But death is always a frightening phenomenon, all the more so when sudden and unexpected.
Felix had registered shock, of course. But after the initial reaction he had treated the whole business rather lightly, and Angela found herself actually resenting his attitude. How could a man be so callous? Surely the dead woman must have been close to him in bygone days; after all, their union had produced a child. His only child, for that matter -although the fact that he was the father of a growing girl had never seemed to concern him much.
Well, he would have to show a little concern now. This was one problem that couldn't be delegated to some hireling. Nor could it be solved with a checkbook, either. By the same token, Angela was aware of how deeply she too was involved; as his present wife, she would certainly have to cope with the predicament.
Oh yes, it was a predicament, sure enough, even though Felix apparently didn't think so. Thus far he had made no effort to discuss it with her, no attempt to see the issue from her viewpoint. Even now-with this major decision still a muddle-he was just sitting there and poring over the financial section of the newspaper. As if the sad message from abroad simply hadn't reached him yet. Or as if he had no idea whatsoever how much the coming of one small teenager could disrupt a well-ordered adult household.
Still, if they were going to decide on something- anything-it would have to be soon. Tonight, most likely. And in that case Angela really didn't object to his preoccupation with the stock market. It gave her a chance to retrench a bit and sharpen her weapons for the impending fray. She would need them, all of those weapons at their very best, in any kind of debate with this shrewd husband of hers.
"Going to bed, dear?" He glanced up from his paper. "But it's so early. Are you sleepy already?"
"No, not at all. Wide awake, in fact. Why?" Smiling coquettishly, she paused at the foot of the stairs. "Something on your mind?"
"Well, uh, we still haven't talked about the kid. Although I guess there isn't much to-"
"Later, darling. When you come up we'll go over the whole thing, okay? Right now I'm just dying to jump into a hot tub and have a nice long soak."
"Okay. Later, then."
"Oh, by the way ... " Her voice turned sweetly seductive. "I've got some new perfumed bath crystals that I haven't tried yet. Do you think I ought to tonight? You know I'd rather not experiment unless you're in the mood for it."
"New stuff, eh? Umm. I'm not really sure."
"Frangipani. Awfully strong."
"Frangi-what?"
"Sounds exotic, doesn't it? Frangipani. Supposed to be a cross between gardenia and jasmine. Want me to smell like an exotic blossom for you, darling?"
"Frangipani. Hmph! Little devil ... "
"But if you don't feel like-"
"No. I feel fine. Go take your bath. And use the new stuff, by all means. Be exotic for me tonight."
Angela nodded and scampered up the stairway, j pleased with the success of her maneuver. Perfume. Weapon number one. The mere mention of it had set his nostrils aquiver. Oh, she knew her man's weaknesses, all right. His peculiar tastes. And better still, she knew how to pander to them. As any good wife should; wasn't that the only way to handle a strong-minded husband?
This would be the night for it, too. Careful handling. In their year and a half of marriage they were facing their first crisis, even though Felix acted as if the situation wasn't critical at all. But then of course he had no inkling, he just didn't fathom all the ramifications of this recent development. A man could never understand the intensity of a woman's feelings in such a matter ...
The bath was pure luxury. And as she lingered in its frothy fragrance, Angela's determination doubled. She had worked too hard to gain all this, the wealth, the easy living, the prospect of a future free from worry. Even the spacious bathroom was symbolic; before marrying Felix Bartholomew she had never seen a sunken tub except in the movies. It was too precious to risk losing, and so was the rest of this elegant East Side duplex apartment. For a showgirl who had seldom risen above bit-part status, this kind of pampered existence was nothing short of paradise.
And now it was being threatened from outside, threatened by the entry of her husband's daughter. Ugh! My stepdaughter. Does that make me the wicked stepmother?
Oh hell, it wasn't the poor child's fault that she was motherless and had nobody else to turn to. Nobody but her estranged father. But she represented a threat nonetheless-because Angela wanted to hang on to the guy, hang on and enjoy the ride-and in order to do so, she had to have him all to herself. Without anyone snooping around to see what was going on. Especially a curious kid. Peeking through keyholes maybe, what a drag!
The marriage had to endure, though. True, she wasn't exactly in love, not when her husband was fat and nearing fifty. After all, she was only twenty-three herself, a young and beautiful and very active twenty-three. In the beginning she hadn't even figured on more than a few years of it; the marriage had only been a means of scrambling up out of poverty. Felix was known to be ungrudging with his ex-wives and a generous alimony settlement. Just like the others. Only she had changed her mind after the first couple of months, recognizing it as a marriage worth preserving. And with all her heart and soul, now she wanted to do just that. Better yet-and far more important-she knew how.
It was simple, really. His former wives must have been pretty stupid; hadn't they realized what type of character he was? Didn't they know how to keep such a man happy? Felix Bartholomew was a wheeler-dealer in business, why should he be any different in sex? A guy like that was bound to get bored with the quiet contented life, he needed excitement rather than contentment. He needed variety, the offbeat stuff, the kind of thing that would make his bedroom bouts as exciting as any Wall Street scrimmage.
Angela gave it to him. Variety, Excitement. She had learned how to stimulate his jaded appetite. How to perform the boudoir stunts that men dream about but never find, at least not in their own conjugal beds with their own lawful bedmates. It didn't happen overnight, of course, but she knew how to keep the dear boy entertained now.
Inventiveness, that was the key. And she had developed a positive flair for it, perhaps even a talent. To titillate this worldly-wise old husband of hers she became all women in one, running the gamut from shy maiden to shameless hussy. She understood his bizarre fancies and never stopped searching for novel methods and techniques of fulfilling them. Admittedly, some of the more unsavory capers weren't much fun for herself, but it was all for a good cause and she didn't mind terribly. It would pay off in the long run; meanwhile a devoted young wife could afford to make some sacrifices.
Besides, those blistering hot sessions occurred less often these days. Felix's last physical checkup had scared him somewhat, a lifetime of excess was apparently catching up with his body. Activity in bed and in business had taken its toll. He was reaching that anxious stage where the call of the flesh had to play second fiddle to the condition of his stomach and heart and liver and blood pressure. So his peak moments of self-indulgence were spaced farther apart lately, making those wildest of depravities the exception rather than the rule. For which Angela was duly grateful.
But they still went on now and then. And she was always willing to participate-even lead!-whenever he felt the desire. The doctor's warning had given her all the more reason to keep the marriage solid and secure. A divorced wife could collect only alimony and such, but a widow-well, that was something else again. It might mean a fortune in the millions. Not that she wished Felix any bad luck, it just wasn't in her nature to be that cold and calculating. But it would have to happen sometime, wouldn't it? And in that case, why shouldn't she be the beneficiary? His other wives had failed him. He had tired of them. And she damn sure wasn't going to let him feel like that about this wife, not as long as there was a breath left in her body. Not as long as she had the time and the place and the freedom to go hog-wild once in a while and prove all over again what a great woman he had been smart enough to marry.
And that, dammit, was the problem. The time, the place, the freedom, the simple circumstances that made it possible to grant her husband his much-needed sex-thrills without worrying about gossip and scandal. And without fear of intrusion. For those depraved moments especially, privacy was an absolute must.
Huge as the apartment was, they kept no sleep-in servants. At the end of each day the household help disappeared. And with no one around, she found it easier to quell her own inhibitions and cater to Felix's weird whims. Or even display a few of her own, perhaps. Whatever a married couple did in private was their own darn business, and she wanted no keyhole peepers or ear-to-the-wall eavesdroppers around to cramp her style. What if the kid turned out to be a snooper? Or even a well-behaved young lady with just normal curiosity about sex. Her very presence in the apartment would be enough to put a curb on the activities that so often reached a frenzied pitch.
No, it just wouldn't work. With the girl here, they would have to confine their ardor strictly to the bedroom. And keep the door locked. And worry about being overheard. Privacy-the kind they had now-would be at an end. And without it, how soon before Felix got bored? What would happen to the all-important marriage, wouldn't it go down the drain like the others?
Okay, so now was the time to do something about it. Now! Yes, tonight. When he came upstairs. She would have to be pretty smooth, of course, smooth and subtle and persuasive-but convincing. With all the weapons at her command.
Mmm, the weapons. A soft-skinned body, soft enough to feel sexy even under her own fingers. A body to be proud of. Sexy way down underneath, too -both, places-too bad she couldn't just lie here and play lovely hide-and-seek games with herself. Big breasts and' shapely legs, all slick and slippery and saturated with that frangipani stuff. Felix would like it. Yummy perfumes were practically a fetish with him. But he'd be coming up soon and it wouldn't do to keep the poor man waiting; time to stir her sexy rump and get ready. Especially after all that talk about the bath crystals. Nice, nice. He would love it. Oh. this was going to be a sexy night ...
A frangipani fuck?
Out of the tub, giggling, Angela applied a bath-towel hurriedly and then added more perfume. Just a drop here and there, a dab with the glass stopper -but in the strategic spots. She fluffed out her blonde hair and made up her face. It was almost too perfect, that face, too angelic for tonight, but that Was soon remedied by dark eye shadow and penciled-in slanting brows. Even with those velvety brown eyes, the angel became a devil. Sexy, sexy. Keep your paws to yourself! Sexy little cunt. Come on now, aren't you getting a little too old for finger games?
It sure smelled good, though. Everything. Even the tips of her fingers! She slipped into high-heeled mules and draped herself in a hellfire red negligee. A gift from hubby, very expensive. It did a lot for her, accentuating every mound and curve and hollow. The filmy fabric presented her body at its beguiling best.
Uh-huh. Hubby evidently thought so, too. When he entered the bedroom, his eyes widened appreciatively and his fond chuckle of approval was a reward for her efforts. But she wanted a much greater reward-although he couldn't have known it-and without sounding too obvious, she managed to prod him in the proper direction. A few words brought the topic for discussion out into the open and she let him take it from there, crossing her fingers in high hopes. Crossed like that, they still felt kind of moist .and slithery but she couldn't tell about the smell any more, not with every inch of her bath-warmed skin reeking.
"Umm, yes, my daughter. Sherry. Silly name- but that's what she calls herself, I gather, so we'd best get accustomed to it. She'll be here shortly. End of the week, I should say."
With a sinking heart, Angela uncrossed her fingers. "She-she's coming here? How do you know?"
"I sent a wire and told her to."
"Oh. You didn't even mention it to me."
"Didn't I? Sorry, darling. It must have slipped my mind. But I thought you understood." He shrugged lamely. "The child has to come here. Where else can she go?"
"Back to school, I figured. It's a good school, isn't it?"
"Good or bad, sending her back there so soon would be heartless. It's so far away, and we're her only kin now. I'm sure she's all broken up over her mother's death; let her get over her grief first. And after that, well, we'll see. There are plenty of fine schools in this country, too. But that can wait till next September, I guess, we'll know better then."
Angela gulped. The need for subtlety had vanished. Without consulting her, he had taken matters into his own hands. Oh sure, he had every right to, no doubt, but she still couldn't accept the idea. Nor could she surrender without a last-ditch plea.
"Felix, have you thought about us? Our special fun? The way we live? Having a child in the house is going to change all that."
His grim expression shut her up. Dismayed, she realized that he was taking his parental obligations seriously. It was too late to retract the wire anyway; why cry over a lost cause? Not that-she saw it as a total loss yet, but this certainly wasn't the moment for further strife between them. Later, perhaps- when her weapons had him at a disadvantage-she might salvage something out of the mess.
"Darling, aren't you going to undress? You haven't even sniffed my nice new scent yet."
"I've been sniffing it." He grinned, clearly relieved by the change of subject, and started shedding his clothes. "Only we had to get this other thing over with first ... "
"Hush. Hurry!"
With a moan, he tumbled into her embrace, sinking his face into the softness of her bosom. He seemed particularly enraptured there, far more so than usual, dwelling upon her breasts to the point of utter fascination. The perfume? Uh-huh. That was where she had dabbed herself rather lavishly; the dear boy had caught the scent and was merely following his nose.
She held them to his lips, cupping the under-curves with her palms in the same motion that flipped the folds of her negligee aside. The nipples went taut as his ardent mouth sent waves of warm sensation over her. Once again he appeared lost in the pillowing softness, abandoning himself to the cupped handfuls of flesh that stuffed his mouth and fretted his flaming cheeks and penetrated his nostrils with their perfume. And abruptly-in a flash of inventive insight-she knew what would please him most. Her breasts were paramount tonight, why not let them render the ultimate ecstasy? Her soft, soft breasts only; could there be any sweeter means of extortion?
With a sinuous little motion, she squirmed away from him. But only for an instant. Away and down. And then, deliciously aware of the audacity of the act, she took his aroused flesh into the valley of her bosom, surrounding its rigid length with a tightening and gliding pressure, a cuntlike clutch controlled by the force of her shoulders and arms and still-cupping hands. Tighter than any cunt, though. And purer in fragrance, too, truly a frangipani fuck ...
He sobbed his pleasure. She peered up at him, her eyes probing. Yes, this was the moment to strike, how could he deny her now? All she had to do was ask. Speak up. Say it! But the excitement was too much for her, dammit, she couldn't stop. She'd never be able to squeeze the words out, not while she had this other thing to go on squeezing. It felt so marvelous! Big cock. Right there where she could just squeeze and squeeze ...
I'm fucking him with my tits!
Okay, so she would have to wait. But it really wasn't such an impossible request. He wouldn't turn her down. Not now, not after this. Felix was always extra nice when she came up with some new stunt to amuse him. In another few minutes he would be as weak and tractable as a lump of clay. And then, well, it would be easy to get around him. September was months away; wouldn't it be wrong to interrupt the kid's education that long? There was bound to be some school that would accept her in mid-session, some school close enough so that she could come home on weekends. Wouldn't that be better for all concerned?
Angela increased the speed and pressure, justly proud of these wonderful weapons of hers. He couldn't say no this time! And she was right to use every trick in the book to make sure of it. Above all, the marriage had to be preserved. Although at this particular instant, judging from the way her husband was heaving and gasping and groaning, their marriage didn't seem to be in any danger. No danger at all.
Chapter Three
Her luggage cluttered the floor, but Sherry was just too damn tired to unpack. Tired and disgusted. Especially after that long lecture on the rules and regulations. She hated the shitty place already; a school was a school whether in Switzerland or in Connecticut, and she didn't have to see much of this one to guess what it would be like. Just another private prison for brats. Miss Pringle's Academy for poor little rich girls ...
She felt miserable. True, the passage of time had dulled the effect of the accident a little and she could think about it without driving herself to the brink of hysteria. But she was still living in a kind of vacuum-an alien in an alien land-a feeling that had persisted even in the beautiful New York apartment, her own home now, with her own father. It was as if her personal world had ended with the cracked-up Ferrari on the other side of the ocean. She wasn't living at all, really, just existing from one day to the next. Like a vegetable. And this place sure didn't seem like a cure for what ailed her; it was too much like that tough Swiss school. Hardly the atmosphere to help her forget.
Oh well, at least they were all trying. Aside from the lecture on discipline-standard for every newcomer, no doubt-old Miss Pringle had been quite nice about getting her started. The other girls had been warned to steer clear of any mention of her mother and the auto accident; nobody would ask why she was transferring right in the middle of a term. Then too, at her own request, even the teachers here would be calling her Sherry instead of the dumb-sounding Felicia name she was officially registered under. So she wouldn't have to go through that again, different names in the classroom and the dormitory-a small but welcome -kindness, more than they had shown in the last school certainly.
For that matter, the general setup wasn't the same either. No big barn of a dormitory, no wide-open sleeping alcove with half a dozen beds under a proctor's sharp eye. Only two to a room here, and the door could actually be kept shut. It was a mixed blessing, of course, since the idea of spending that much time with just one other girl didn't exactly appeal to her. Something she would just have to get used to, most likely, one of the local customs. Anyway, a lot depended on what sort of kid this quiet roommate of hers finally turned out to be. Not the prissy type, she hoped. Although that painful possibility seemed more and more probable with every passing minute, damn the luck.
Hard to tell, though. Miss Pringle had introduced them and then walked out, a dead silence prevailing behind her. Not a word so far, and it was getting pretty embarrassing. Kim Huber sure didn't look like much-brownish hair, grayish eyes, a dumpy little figure that still had some of its baby-fat left- just not very interesting as a prospective roommate. But looks weren't important at the moment, not when so much else was at stake. What if they had opposing views on morality and such? Obeying the rules, for instance. Even the most simple everyday things might become a problem then.
Despite the obvious risk entailed, Sherry grew impatient and decided to find out. She dug a pack of cigarettes from her purse and lit one, watching and waiting for the reaction. It came-a tiny start of surprise followed immediately by a smile-and she smiled back and made the gesture of offering the pack. That too drew a favorable response; the girl took one and put it to her thick lips, striking a match rather awkwardly but with apparent determination, almost nervous in her effort to light up.
Then, after the first puff, "You do know there's a rule against this, don't you? Smoking in the room?"
"Uh-huh. So what?"
"So nothing. Except that the two of us ought to get along just fine. You're better than my last roomie, that's for sure. She used to get uptight all the time, always nagging."
"What happened to her?"
"She had to leave at the end of the term. Family reasons, I think, somebody got sick and they needed her at home. Believe me, I wasn't sorry to see her go -always worrying about the rules. I'm glad you're here, though, it's been kind of lonesome since then."
"The rules ... " Sherry scowled. "Miss Pringle read me a list a mile long. Does she really enforce them?"
"Well, she tries. Old Needlenose, that's what us kids call her, Old Needlenose Pringle. She does try, but if you're smart there's always a way of getting around the rules."
"That's encouraging. Best news I've heard today."
"We manage. It's just a question of being careful, that's all. Old Needlenose would have a shit hemorrhage if she knew some of the stuff that goes on behind her back."
"Stuff? Like what?"
"Oh ... just things ... " Then, shrugging, "Like I said, play it cool and you can get away with murder."
"No, thanks. Murder is out of my line. You might let me in on the other stuff some time, though. The secret stuff, the things you can't talk about. When we know each other better, huh?"
Kim's eyes went bright momentarily and then dropped as she hung her head. "Sure. Be glad to." Her voice was a mumble. "I won't keep any secrets from my roomie."
"Look out, I may just hold you to that. No secrets. Uh, how about the door? Any way of locking it? I'm dying to strip down and take a shower, but my robe is probably buried at the bottom of that whole mess somewhere."
"Use mine if you like. But don't let the door bother you, it'll stay closed without a lock. Nobody comes in unless they knock first, not even old Pringle herself-it's a school tradition, you know. An unwritten law, practically. They've got to knock good and loud and wait till somebody says come in."
"Hmm. There ought to be more traditions like that. How long has it been going on?"
"Years and years, I guess. It's so you won't be disturbed while you're studying, that's how it got started."
Sherry stretched languorously, glancing at the door and grinning, very much aware of the gray eyes hanging on to her every movement. Her urge for a shower was sincere enough, but there was more than mere cleanliness involved now, a lovely sensation of finding herself back among the living. She could feel the stirring of her blood. Without recognizing exactly how or when-a miracle, almost!-she had been lifted out of her vegetable existence.
It was good for her, of course, the best thing that could have happened, this sudden awakening. Even her rising sense of impatience had a certain therapeutic value. Only she couldn't afford to lose her head so soon, regardless of the reason; after all, they were still just getting acquainted, still filling in the blanks of their relationship with a lot of guesswork. Let the shower calm her down, then-and make the entire performance quite casual rather than openly seductive, especially this business of undressing for the first time in these unfamiliar circumstances.
Yeah. Take it easy, baby. Easy ...
She did just that, taking it easy as her body was bared. Even so, with those eyes devouring her so hopefully, it was difficult to keep her newly invigorated flesh from rippling its erotic message. Almost instinctively, she slipped into the preening and posturing undulations of a temptress, all but wallowing in the hot-eyed adoring gaze of her audience. Only by sheer will-power did she manage to turn her back and flounce off into the bathroom.
Here too, the Connecticut school had its advantages, a separate tub and stall-shower in a private bath for each room. Under the nozzle. Sherry adjusted the spray and revolved luxuriously, letting her hair get drenched. It felt nice, the pressure, the heat, the steam-everything. Not so bad after all, this cozy little school with its cozy little setup; maybe she wouldn't even care about going home on weekends. Except that she had no choice in the matter at this point; they would be expecting her. Home to the New York apartment, with dinner by candlelight in her honor. Oh shit, would she have to sit through that again?
So it appeared. That was why they had chosen this place to send her to, it wasn't too far away for a weekend trip, the only such school that would accept her in the middle of the term. And its low academic rating was of minor consideration, what with these other requisites to fulfill. Her father had expounded on that pompously at the dinner table, acting like the lord of the manor-although it soon became evident that his wife was the real boss. What a smooth bitch, that Angela, a blonde bombshell who had obviously married for money and was covering every angle. Even smiling and trying to get chummy with her new stepdaughter; such a goddam phony! Sherry loathed her on sight, an opinion that would last until hell froze over. But it didn't matter, of course, she was still playing the dutiful child running home to spend weekends with her dear father and her darling stepmother. It was either that or sleep in the streets and starve to death. Hmm. What kind of accommodations were they offering at the orphanage these days?
"Sherry?"
"Huh? You want something? I can't hear you. Wait ... "
"I thought you might like some help."
"Help?"
"Scrub your back. That's the least a roomie can do."
"Oh. I don't think-"
"I'm pretty good. too. Made straight A's in back-scrubbing. You ought to try me, I've got just the right touch."
"Well ... but you'll get all wet ... "
"Only my skin. The rest comes off. Okay?"
There was no need for an answer. Outside the glass door Kim had already begun tossing her clothes off. It took only a moment and then she was inside the cubicle, her hair caught up in a hasty topknot. Her naked form was plump and somewhat less than impressive, and Sherry paid it no more than scant heed, noticing only that the nipples were aroused and rigid. Then they were crowded in together, both under the spray and tot) close for vision, two bodies crammed into a space designed for one.
Her own nipples started to swell, an unexpected and mildly embarrassing occurrence as the unavoidable contact made its mark, and she was quite relieved when Kim squirmed around and began to lather her back. The kid did a thorough job of it, too, remaining there behind her and rubbing the soap right in. Then the cake of soap was gone, somehow, and both hands were gliding busily over her skin. The water beat down in front, hot and tingly, keeping her breasts at that same pitch of sensitivity. And now the slippery palms were working lower, spreading-the thick lather past her hips and at last into her buttocks.
A finger tensed in automatic resistance. Immediately both hands became businesslike again, sliding back up and continuing in small circular movements. She felt something brush the nape of her neck, then the curve of her shoulder. Lips? Uh-huh. Lips parted in a slithery kiss ...
"You're so beautiful ... "
At her ear now, a whisper. Lips. Hands passing under her arms to reach around and cup her breasts ...
"Beautiful tits. Beautiful, beautiful."
Fingers plucked maddeningly at her nipples. And it occurred to Sherry for the first time that she had fallen into the clutches of an experienced lesbian. More experienced than herself! It just didn't seem possible somehow; scarcely minutes ago she had looked at this lumpish child and worried about being stuck with a prissy roommate. Was this the same shy little girl who had been prodded out of her stupor only by the offer of a cigarette? The girl who couldn't even strike a match properly?
It was something to ponder. Even now those hands were performing the kind of magic that would soon mean total collapse. Kim Huber not only knew the score, she knew it entirely too well. Which was something else to worry about, something quite different. Throughout her young life. Sherry had always been a leader among her peers, the dominant partner in any relationship-and she just couldn't see herself giving up that position now. Not here, not in an involvement that would be going on for months. The idea was intriguing, admittedly, and she might have been willing to relax and enjoy it just for the novelty in some other situation. But this wasn't a one-night stand, it was the charting of a course, the initial encounter between two people who would be traveling in this same direction together for a long time. No, the danger was too apparent, she couldn't afford the luxury of relaxation.
Relaxation, oh sure-she was weak in the knees already; those knowing hands had her limp as a wet noodle. They were turning her around now, those clever hands, one caressing and the other tugging, and she could only follow the dictates of both. Her body just wouldn't function any other way. Turning, turning-until the water struck her back and she was face to face with her tormentor. And then she , saw the thick lips coming toward her. loosely pursed for a kiss, thick and moist and almost obscene in that pudgy, overconfident face. The face of a precocious brat, so smug, so cocky, so sure of herself! And only a baby, really, a chubby little child who had to stand on tiptoe and tilt her pug-nosed baby-face upward to come even close: how could such an infant know so much?
Hmm. Maybe she knew too much for her own good. Sherry was shaking off her paralysis now, inspired by sheer resentment. That attitude of smug self-confidence infuriated her; the fact that she had been taken for granted was just too horrid to bear. Taken for granted by a smart-ass snotty kid ...
"Kiss me. Come on! Sherry?"
"Stop that. No more now."
"Aw, come on. Kiss me. Kiss me and feel my tits."
That was the last straw. "No! Don't you dare!" She tore the clinging hands from her body. "Just leave me alone. I don't even want you touching me."
"What's the matter? A minute ago you-"
"Get out!" A vengeful shove slammed the roly-poly fat flesh against the side of the cubicle. "Filthy little dyke. Get the hell out of here. Out, you hear me? Right now!"
Whimpering with fright, Kim scurried to make her exit. Halfway out, she slipped and fell, crumpling into a wretched heap on the hard tile floor, blocking the door and preventing its closure. A fringe of the broad shower spray pelted her and drained outward, soaking the near edge of the bath-mat.
Sherry cut the water off, nudging a flabby rump-cheek with her toes. "Move it, kid. Let's go!" But the touch was too gentle, evidently, and she drew her foot back to launch a vigorous and well-aimed kick. "Come on, get your fat lesbian ass out of here!"
That brought swift results. The girl scrambled up and away in a flurry of haste, pausing only to cast a wide-eyed imploring glance back over one shoulder as the glass door swung shut behind her. It was a disturbing look, meaningful and yet somehow strangely ambiguous in its meaning-an emotional appeal of some sort?-cryptic enough to whet Sherry's curiosity. She had seen no rancor there, certainly, no sign of the bitterness that might have been expected, only a haunting impression of something that demanded further scrutiny. Piqued, she postponed finishing her shower and stepped out, grabbing a towel and draping it sarong-fashion around her torso.
"Well? Kim? What have you got to say for yourself?"
"I-I'm sorry. I thought you liked it."
"You mean you thought I was the same as you are. Shit! Just because I let you wash my back, huh? You just took it for granted that I was another lesbian. Or maybe you had that figured out in advance, maybe you were already counting on it. With no boys around, maybe that's the kind of school this is. maybe it goes on all the time, a lot of little dykes, right? Come on. kid. you better level with me before I get real mad."
"N-no ... it's not like that ... "
"Bullshit! The lesbian stuff-isn't that an old school tradition, too'? Just like knocking on the door. Yeah. You knock first in case the chicks inside are studying, oh sure. What are they studying-pussy? How to suck cunt? How to belly-rub your roommate? Yeah, that must be it. how to fuck without getting pregnant. I'll bet Miss Pringle knows what goes on. I'll bet she just laughs and looks the other way and maybe jerks herself off thinking about it. about all the cute little cuntlappers having fun in the dormitory."
"Sherry, no! That's not true! None of it. Especially about Miss Pringle-she just doesn't know. I swear she doesn't. Oh shit, if she ever found out ... "
The quavering voice was shaded with fear. It had the ring of sincerity, though, unmistakably so and Sherry was forced to pop her imaginative dream-bubble. So the place wasn't teeming with eager young lesbians. Too bad. She would have to confine herself to this one for a while, confine her activities to this available but rather unattractive butterball. At least until she got the lay of the land. Uh-huh. One room, one roommate. Well, two rooms, including the bath. Two plus, for that matter, considering the possibilities of the shower cubicle. But only one roommate, dammit, not much fun unless she could come up with something to sweeten the deal. One scared and shaky roommate. Hmm. Scared, sure enough, and wasn't that in itself a potential asset? A highly negotiable asset too, perhaps, why not scare her a little more and find out?
"Okay, okay, so I was wrong about the school, maybe there aren't that many cunt-eating queers. You might even be the only one. huh? No wonder you made a pass at me. And I just stood there like a stupid dummy, too. I just didn't realize ... "
"But-but you must have. Even when you were undressing, couldn't you tell by the way I looked at you? And the way you were posing and putting on a show for me, just like a strip-tease-oh, you must have known from the very beginning, Sherry. Come on, admit it."
"So you still think that, huh? You think I'm queer!"
"I didn't say that. But your nipples were pointy when I got under the shower with you. Like you were all steamed up and ready for me, ready for some hot loving. And then when I quit soaping your back and kissed you, remember-I kissed your neck and whispered in your ear and started playing with your tits -don't tell me you didn't like that. You would have fallen on your ass if I hadn't held on. You liked it, I know goddam well you did. You loved it! So you needn't call me dirty names, you're not so different yourself."
Calmly, deliberately, Sherry moved a step closer and swung, slapping the kid across the face. The exertion loosened her sarong towel and it slipped away and settled to the floor, leaving her nude once more. She scarcely noticed it. intent only on the astonishing behavior of her victim. The blow had sent Kim sprawling, but she had managed to twist her head and keep on peering upward even on the way-down. And again, incongruously, there was no trace of anger on her features. An indecipherable mixture of emotions, but no anger at all. Nor was there any in her voice as she spoke.
"Oooh ... you hit me so hard ... "
"Only because you had it coming. But don't worry, you won't have to put up with me much longer. I'll find another room to bunk in. another room and another roommate."
"Oh! You-you won't tell Miss Pringle, will you'?"
"About you? Oh shit, I'm no squealer. But I'll have to tell her something, I guess, she'll want to know why I'm moving out. And if I can't make up a halfway decent story ... "
"Don't go. Please don't go. I was all wrong about you and I'm apologizing. It won't happen again. I'll be a perfect roomie from now on. But stay away from Pringle, don't even talk to her-please?"
"I-I've got to think about it. Kim, how can I go on living here with you, how can I put it out of my mind? Every time I take a bath, every time I get undressed, every time you look at me. I'll be remembering what happened today. The way you got hot fooling around with my tits. The way you tried to stick your soapy finger in my ass ... "
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Maybe you thought I didn't notice that, huh? Right up my asshole. Dirty little pervert. What comes after your finger, your tongue? You'll be sniffing around like a puppydog, I suppose, a little bitch dog with its tongue hanging out. Sniffing around and begging for a lick of my ass. Isn't that how a dirty dyke gets her kicks?"
"Please. Must you say things like that?"
"You don't like the way I talk?"
"Well ... " Then, the thick lips quivering, "I- I'm sorry. I've got no right to complain."
"Yeah. That's better. The perfect roomie. I guess I'm getting soft, kid, I just might stay and see how it works out between us. What the hell, I'm naked now; what's to be modest about. You can look and lick your lips all day long and it won't bother me. Not if you're a good girl, always cheerful, always ready to lend a hand in case I need you for something. Understand? I'm staying. You can stop worrying about Old Needlenose Pringle. But from now on we'll be doing things my way. And I do mean my way. Okay?"
"Whatever pleases you. Okay. I'll try not to lick my lips. I won't even look at you if-"
"Never mind that. Lick your lips. Look. Maybe I'll even get a charge out of it-torture for you, an ego trip for me, huh? Do it now, lovey, look at me. look at my tits, my cunt, look at your naked roomie -here, you want a close-up view of my ass? Right up close now, come on! Are you licking your lips? Hey, you're pretty like that, all nice and wet and shiny. that mouth of yours. How about me? Am I pretty, too?"
"You're beautiful, Sherry. Thank you. Thank you for everything."
"Yeah, I've got myself a perfect roomie. Listen. I'm going to finish my shower now. Why don't you go ahead and start unpacking my bags meanwhile, huh? You can put everything away, too, arrange it to suit yourself; you'll be taking care of my clothes and things most of the time anyway. Steady job, you know? Go ahead now, maybe you can have it all done before I'm out of the shower. I might even let you dry me off afterward; you'd like that, wouldn't you? Yeah, damn right you would."
Sherry strode off without a backward glance, all but panting in suppressed excitement, the thrill of conquest like a hot wine coursing through her veins. Under the shower again, she tilted her head back to take the brunt of the cascade upon her flushed face. Oh, it was wonderful to find herself in complete control so soon! Wonderful to feel so completely alive, too. Her vegetating days were over. Maybe it really wouldn't be so bad after all, this place, her new school, Miss Pringle's Academy for brats and sluts and fat little lesbians with nice thick lips ...
Chapter Four
In all her life, Kim Huber couldn't recall ever having been so- flustered. Disorganized. Even a bit frightened. And yet she managed to work swiftly and industriously, unpacking each piece of luggage and stowing its contents away in dresser drawers and on closet racks and shelves. Neatness was secondary to speed at this point; she wanted only to get the job done and have the room fairly clear of debris before the shower stopped. As ordered.
Well, no, it wasn't an order, really, more of a suggestion-but she could no longer afford to make that distinction, considering the source. Strict obedience was called for regardless; with a club over her head, what else could she do? The ugly word hadn't even been mentioned aloud-blackmail!-but the threat of it was still hanging poised and ready to fall. I'm no squealer, Miss Pringle, but is my roommate supposed to fuck me in the shower f I figured maybe it's an old school tradition ...
Blackmail. It was scary, all right, but Kim had already reconciled herself to the pressure, more interested now in fulfilling her end of the bargain, the perfect roomie in thought as well as deed. There was something quite stimulating about it all, something that seemed strangely sensual and yet vaguely familiar. Not just a leftover, either, not a residue of the excitement in the bathroom. She could tell the difference. This was all tied up with fear, somehow, and reminiscent of a time when sex had meant nothing to her. Early childhood, of course-a well-behaved little girl deliberately acting naughty on the sly, desperately afraid of getting caught but doing it anyway. Just to spite the servants, no doubt, or her governess maybe, any one of a long line of governesses now faded from memory. It was all so vague. She could still remember the feeling, though, the feeling that always came with the danger; wasn't it this same funny feeling?
This same sexy feeling. Because of the danger! Because of the fear of what might happen to her. Because the "perfect roomie" was practically a prisoner in her own room, caught in a trap of her own making, left with no choice but to submit ...
Submit to what?
Kim shuddered deliciously, afloat on a wave of speculation, the very thought turning her breathless with excitement. The mystery, the unknown quantity, the darkly ominous blank picture-it was all so frightening and so enticing at once. All the more so because its power over her was absolute. And yet even this sense of sheer helplessness gave her hot thrills along with the cold chills. It made blackmail almost savory, in a way.
True, she might be romanticizing a bit; maybe there was only drudgery in store for her, just taking care of clothes and things, the kind of duties a servant would perform. But even that had a certain bizarre appeal-she would still be sworn to obedience, no better than a slave. And somehow that didn't- seem bad at all, the idea of becoming the slave to a beautiful girl. There was bound to be a little fun mixed in with the frustration. And such a beautiful girl ...
Shivery with anticipation, Kim listened for the shower noise and visualized the sparkling rivulets of water flowing down that divinely slim body. Down the delightfully rippling flesh, so firm and healthy and without an ounce of superfluous fat-almost boyish, really, but still graceful and remarkably feminine, especially those nice jutting titties. Anyway, there was sure nothing boyish about the tiny pink lips of flesh underneath that dark hair, a flash of glistening pink in the dark patch of curly cunt-hair. So suckable!
The unpacking job was finished and the mess cleared away at last, leaving only the few bits of lingerie that Sherry had just discarded. Soiled things, the ones she had worn on today's travel from home; why not give them a quick rinse right now. Kim scooped up the small pile and went into the bathroom. The panties were soft and fragile; she raised one hand and rubbed the scented fabric against her cheek. The touch opened floodgates of emotion, and she dropped the other stuff to cup the panties in both hands and bury her nose. For a moment she was almost tempted to keep them unwashed just for herself, to sleep with that nice ripe cunty girl-smell under her pillow tonight. But no, that would be kind of sneaky, disloyal-something a perfect roomie wouldn't do, not without permission.
She began her task, running a sinkful of suds and then grimacing at the sight of her face in the mirror. All sweaty and flushed from so much exertion, hardly presentable! Hurriedly she swung away from the things soaking in the basin and bent down to splash herself with cold water, using the tap in the tub. Then, dripping wet. she reached for a clean towel just as the shower noise stopped and Sherry stepped out onto the bathmat.
The towel was halfway to Kim's head, about to dry her face and dampened hair. But it didn't seem right, somehow; intuitively she recognized a flaw in her demeanor. Would a slave girl attend her own needs while her mistress stood there waiting? Even now Sherry had plucked a towel from the shelf and was unfolding it to cover her mop of soaked curls.
Kim galvanized into action, anxious to make up for her brief but unforgivable lapse. She fell to her knees almost instinctively, settling into the abject posture without conscious effort. As though she belonged there. It felt good, too, it felt right to crouch down like this to offer her services; what better way to show her acceptance of servitude?
Quite earnest in her endeavor, she dried the moisture from Sherry's feet, finding a new and unexpected beauty even here, an unblemished shapeliness that cried out for more than mere cursory attention. One after the other, she plied the towel over the toes and insteps and arches of each pretty foot as it was lifted to allow access, doing even the soles as a labor of love. Then, rising out of her crouch slowly, she worked on the slender legs a while, rapturously aware of her nearness to all sorts of intimate goodies ...
"Hey! I just noticed. Those my things in the basin?"
"Uh-huh. Is that okay?"
"I'll say. Kim, you're a darling. But if you're so nice to me, how can I be mean in return? Maybe I'll just have to relax the rules a teeny bit."
"Rules?"
"Our rules. My rules. You'll be learning them, don't worry. But right now, well ... " Sherry twisted slightly, waggling her hips and then angling one above the other in a provocative pose. "If you feel like sneaking a little kiss ... "
Kim caught her breath, wondering if she had read the message correctly; maybe this roommate of hers was a swinger after all, a real devil-may-care type once the mask came off. Anyway, that seductively-angled haunch was message enough for the moment an invitation to enjoyment. She licked her lips and leaned closer, planting the kiss on the outthrust ass-cheek. It was a light and fleeting caress, no more, but she sensed the firm flesh yield and go soft in a spontaneous quiver of response.
"Yeah. You're a sweet kid. Honey, I can't get over it, the way you took care of my panties and stuff without a word from me. It kind of turns me on, you know? I've always wanted a maid, it's been a thing with me as far back as I can remember. A personal maid, a maid all my own, a servant interested only in my own personal comfort and contentment. Somebody to pick up after me, keep the place clean no matter how much mess I make. Yeah. Only it's just been a dream up till now, a dream that couldn't possibly come true for years yet-maybe never. And all of a sudden, wow!-I've got my heart's desire, the maid of my dreams. Or at least that's how it looks, huh? Unless maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions ... "
"I-I didn't know. About your dream, I mean. But I'm glad, of course, glad I can make it all come true. I'll sure try, anyway. As long as you want me, as long as we're together like this. That's how it ought to be between roommates, right?"
"That's how it's going to be, kiddo. You're the perfect roomie, sure enough, especially for somebody like me. I'm pretty lazy, pretty much used to letting things slide-kind of a slob, really, I might as well admit it. But I'm not exactly selfish, you'll be happy to hear; in my own way, I can be pretty generous. Right now, for instance-I'm relaxing the rules a little bit more."
"Oh. Sherry? You mean ... "
"Uh-huh. You've got me curious. Wondering what it feels like, you know? So come on, let's try it, take a nibble of my cunt. Nice and easy, though, give me a chance to find out if I like it. Just a nibble, okay?"
It was almost more than Kim could have wished for on such short notice. She closed in on her target eagerly but with a certain caution, forcing herself to resist temptation and remain within the spirit of the project. Still inches away, she curbed her approach to blow a long and lingering breath into the tuft of hair, watching the strands separate and diverge at the point of impact. The moving puff was kept to a minimum of pressure, calculated only to tickle and tease tenderly, a gentle preparation for a gentle nibble. Her eyes were drawn constantly deeper, though, and soon she abandoned the breathing technique just to stare.
Visible beneath the shadowy tuft, trembling lips appeared to purse daintily in greeting, pink and moist and expectantly puckered for her kiss. Like the clustered petals of a rosebud, still damp with night-dew in the first ray of early morning sunshine. It was a thing of rare beauty, utterly breathtaking, and Kim felt a flicker of something akin to awe. At last she shut her eyes and touched it with the tip of her tongue, savoring anew what she could no longer see. Silky flesh brushed her face exquisitely, twitching and throbbing unmistakably now; its excitement bridged the gap to spread through her own body. And she began to nibble fastidiously but with ever-increasing fervor, inspired to a deeper level of lust by the sound of a faraway moan and then the voice out of the towering distance.
"Hey. you're beginning to reach me. More now. Eat it a little, go ahead, eat my cunt. Uh-huh. Yeah. Just like that. Your tongue, your tongue. I love your tongue. Ooh, that's simply grand, you darling girl. But don't make me come yet. don't even try. I'm still just testing. No! Oh shit, slow down, didn't you hear me?"
The abrupt sharpness of tone sliced through Kim's rapidly thickening fog. reminding her of something she had all but lost sight of in this overwhelming daze. Of course she had to obey, wasn't she still just a slave here? A slave on trial, actually, and that would require more than just energy and enthusiasm. Tact was called for a display of prowess, a comparatively calm head-and yet even that became almost unbearably exciting as she saw herself in momentary crystal clarity. On her knees, sucking a cunt according to command. On her knees and crouched like a slave, already humble beyond belief, a slave with only her fat buttocks retaining any last vestige of pride. Only her bare ass. Big fat buttocks sticking out proudly, grimly, refusing to relinquish their compulsive illusions of vanity. Delusions of grandeur, more than likely; why should she be vain about her ass? Hard to figure out, that one. Vain about my ass?
And yet somehow the position seemed eloquently suggestive. As though she had missed a clue somewhere. Anyway,, why did the skin feel so cool back there, wasn't it supposed to be itchy and inflamed and terribly uncomfortable? Oh well, she had a job to do, no time to get bogged down in details ... trivial ...
"Damn! I can't hold out much longer, I'm getting so hot, so goddam horny. Yeah. I sure do like my maid, you'll never get away from me now. Not after this. Oh shit. I can appreciate a good thing when it comes along. You're stuck with me, kid. But don't worry, you won't be unhappy, you won't be standing over a sinkful of pantyhose all day. You just go on being nice to me and I'll be nice to you, how's that? Tit for tat. Or tit for tit, huh?-when we get around to it. Let's just concentrate on cunt for a while. you've got me right on the edge. Oooh! That tongue of yours. I had no idea it would be like this, even better than all the wild stories I've heard. Yeah. My little lesbian maid won't ever starve for cunt, I'll never send her to bed without her supper. Besides, who'd be foolish enough to let all that talent go to waste? Hey listen, you hungry now? Kim? Want something to swallow?"
"Ummm ... "
"Make me come. Have yourself a ball. Get in there deep and suck my cunt inside out, isn't that what you lezzies do best? Yeah, that's it, that's the place, I'm coming already. It's happening!"
"Mmm?"
"In your mouth. I'll come in your mouth, okay?"
"Umm ... sure ... " Kim's head bobbed eagerly. It didn't seem right that she should have been asked for permission, though. "In my mouth. If you want to. Come in my mouth."
"Suck. Suck!"
It was happening, sure enough, and she turned her mouth into an offering of intense devotion. Only she didn't feel quite right about that other business either-tit for tat-it was just no way to handle a slave. A friend, a lover, a roommate maybe, but not a slave. All that kindness simply didn't fit. Hmm. No doubt about it, she would just have to drop a few discreet hints on the subject. Sneaky, of course, but hardly disloyal; how else could the perfect roomie manage to function so perfectly? A slave was a thing to be used, to be possessed, to be whatever pleased her mistress-with no thought of reward, no return but the joy of her own humility. Like this mouthful of cunt-cream, for instance, a thrill of thrills, their first together-and all the more thrilling because it was evidence of Sherry's pleasure! So who needed a condescending mistress?
"Suck me, you sweet little bitch! Come on, baby, eat my cunt, gobble it right down, let's see what kind of cuntlapper I've got. Yeah. Go, girl. Hey, I like that, you're a real gobbler. I mean you really make a meal of it, huh?"
Kim gurgled and nearly choked, frightening herself half to death and falling in love all over again with her unpredictable roommate. The explosion in her mouth was marvelous; even the taste seemed more luscious than she had known such a taste could be. And for a long time she just stayed there kneeling in front of the sensuously agitated body, licking away the traces of orgasm. Until at last Sherry went limp and began swaying precariously.
"Wow! I didn't think I could make it standing up. I'm still shaking like a leaf. Say, how'd we get started in here anyway? The bathroom. It's uncivilized."
"You'd better lie down. Come on, I'll help you." Kim treated herself to an impetuous farewell kiss and then rose solicitously, reluctant to leave the goodies but conscious of her body. "Just hang on and I'll steer you to the bed." Heedful of her precious burden, she completed the maneuver in almost motherly fashion. "There now, isn't that comfy"? You can rest while I go-"
"No. Stay. Keep me company."
"But-but I ought to wash my face first. I look a mess. And those things in the basin ... "
"Forget it. My underwear can wait. And what's the matter with your face, don't you like my cunt any more? Smells kind of sexy on you. It's the same face you just fucked me with, anyway. I like it as is. Come on, lie down and get comfy, just stretch out alongside me. You deserve a little rest after all that work. You and that smart tongue of yours ... "
"Was it all right?" Kim sank to the bed. "Honest? Did I make it good for you? I really wanted to, more than anything else. I just wanted to make you happy."
"You did fine. Practically knocked me out. I'm not sleepy, though, so let's chat awhile, huh? It's about time we got acquainted. Let's relax and cuddle a little and talk things over."
"Acquainted?" With a giggle, Kim edged in closer. "How much better acquainted can we get?" Relaxation was beyond her capability at the moment; she felt keyed-up, her body still aglow with unquenched fire. And now Sherry's fingers were touching her, skating around playfully but always toward more intimate contact, adding fuel to the flame. "But I'm all for it. What'll we talk about?"
"Uh ... " The fingers darted. "This?"
"Oooh!"
"You mind, kid? Mind if I fool around down there? You've got me more curious than ever about this lesbian stuff. Who knows, maybe I'm even hooked, huh? Feels so nice and soft ... "
"I love it. Thank you."
"Hmm? What are you thanking me for."
"For your hand. Down there. What it's doing."
"Oh. In that case, thank you."
"Me? What for?"
"For your mouth, silly. For sucking my cunt so good."
"No, please don't. I'd rather not be thanked for that. My mouth is yours any time you want it. no strings attached. Besides, if you only knew what weird thoughts I was having ... "
"Weird thoughts? When you were eating me? Do tell. Roomies aren't supposed to have secrets, you said."
"Well ... " Kim hesitated, groping for words that wouldn't seem too obvious. Then, as a finger prodded abruptly, almost fiercely, she could only gasp and just blurt it all out. "It made me feel like a slave. Down on my knees in front of you like that, sucking you off, trying to please you-just a loving slave girl, you know?" Her cheeks turned rosy warm. "Something like that, anyway. Oh, go ahead and laugh, I won't blame you. I guess it sounds pretty dumb."
"Who's laughing. Sometimes the dumbest ideas are the best. A loving slave girl, how about that? And you were going to keep it a secret from me, too. I'm glad you didn't."
"It-it doesn't upset you then."
"I'm still trying to digest it. Give me time. Hey, you're getting hot, huh? You like what I'm doing to you?"
"Oooh, yes. I love it! Only you wouldn't even have to ask, you could just do whatever you wanted, whatever you felt like-if I was your slave for real. I mean."
"I'm fingering you, kid. Fingerfucking. If I let you become my slave, that's about as much affection as you'll ever get from me. I'm no cuntlapper. Understand."
"Of course. I'm the cuntlapper. I'll be your cunt-lapping slave girl and grateful for the privilege."
"Yeah. My lesbian slave. You figure you'll be satisfied with just this. This. There, how does that feel. My whole hand. You like getting frigged by a pretty girl?"
"Wonderful. Pretty girl. My beautiful mistress.
"Sorry. Did I hurt you?"
"It's okay. Hurt me some more, I love everything you do to me. Frig me, frig my cunt hard, frig me with both hands, I don't care-the harder the better. It still feels wonderful."
"Both hands, eh? Nope. Too tight. Liable to stretch your poor little pussy all out of shape. But you've got an ass I can grab, a big fat ass ... "
"Eeek! No, don't stop! It hurts good. Do it again, pinch it, pinch my ass like that. Hard. Harder, harder!"
"I'll pinch it, you crazy little queer. I'll pinch your fat ass black and blue. There! I'll pinch the shit out of it. how do you like that?"
Another shriek rose in Kim's throat, but she bit her lips and muffled it to a low moan, anxious to avoid even the slightest semblance of protest. It was supposed to hurt, wasn't it? Especially her ass, her soft ass sticking out back there ...
Lightning struck, jolting her brain, a bolt from out of the blue, an ecstatic flash of memory that stunned her with its impact. How clear it all seemed now. how vivid in her mind-the little girl draped over the broad lap of her governess, the well-behaved but sometimes naughty little girl, her bottom bared for punishment and turning red-hot under the blistering palm of her adored disciplinarian, her strict but deliriously sweet-scented grown-up friend, the only nanny who had ever understood. Or was there more than one. Funny. She couldn't remember. She couldn't even remember that one, really, her name or what she looked like or anything else about her. But the single isolated memory was enough; no wonder it was supposed to hurt!
Fingers jabbed and clutched violently. In a transport of delirious rapture, Kim whimpered and felt herself succumbing to the gradual onrushing power of her climax. She lay open and vulnerable to the onslaught, so rough, so savage, and yet so miraculously thrilling, her body squirming and writhing to the perverse rhythm of those two pain-charged hands. Until at last a wail broke through the seal of her clenched lips and swelled to a scream as the peak pleasure seized her and hung on for a timeless infinity ...
Then, with a chuckle, "Well, little slave? No comment?"
Speech remained impossible, but Kim's need to proclaim her love was too great to suppress. She sank to her knees again, slipping from the bed and then bowing her head to kiss Sherry's foot.
"Oooh, that tickles. I guess I'll just have to get used to it, though. If you're going to be my slave."
"Darling ... " A whisper, a choked wheeze. "I love you. I'll be your slave. I am your slave. I'll do anything for you, anything you desire. Command and I'll obey. And if I'm not perfect, if you're the least bit dissatisfied with my service, then I want you to punish me. I'll learn faster that way."
"Punish you? How? Won't a scolding do?"
"Whatever you think is right. A spanking maybe, a good hard ass-walloping-that ought to work. Or you might get mad and slap my face again. The punishment is up to you; I just know I'll be needing it, I'll be needing something to keep me in line. Even if you took a whip to me, I'd only kiss your feet and thank you for it."
"So now it's a whip, huh? Tell me, are all you a goddam lesbians that freaky? Never mind, don't answer that-one freak is enough, one freaky little queer is all I can handle. Oh shit, where am I going to find a whip around this place?"
Chapter Five
Only a casual mention, perhaps-but it came as a shock when Sherry learned that she still might have to return to the Swiss school in September. The academic rating of Miss Pringle's Academy left something to be desired, according to her father. But there was time yet, he would make his decision later.
His decision. Sherry fumed. As if she herself had nothing whatsoever to say about it!
Funny. A week ago it wouldn't have mattered, one school was the same as another, all shitty. But things were different now; she had found a goldmine in Connecticut-easy classwork, more privacy, an opportunity for secret thrills despite the discipline- and a genuine gold nugget for a roommate. The hell with Switzerland!
Luckily there was plenty of time yet, time to influence that all-important decision. And there was bound to be some way to do it, even if she had to take desperate measures. Even if it meant swallowing her pride and buttering up her stepmother. Ugh. A desperate measure, sure enough, hardly an appetizing prospect. But a candle in the darkness, certainly, in view of just where the balance of power appeared to be concentrated, A brightly lit candle, bright and blonde and luminous, the kind of blonde beauty that could influence any man. In looks at least. Angela wasn't much like the wicked stepmother of fairy tales. Maybe there was even a real heart beating beneath that phony exterior. Although that did seem rather doubtful; more than likely it was just a cash register. With a built-in calculator to keep track of checks and such, the larger sums.
Still, considering the sad situation, even a blonde cash register would be a helpful ally. Any anyway. the buttering-up- could be done without getting downright familiar. Sex didn't enter the picture, of course; she couldn't very well have been such a hardship, really-after all, with a face and figure like that ...
But no, it was out of the question, too risky to even contemplate, and Sherry cleared her mind and embarked on a less hazardous course. The approach was made on Saturday afternoon, quite late, after the servants had gone.
"No family dinner tonight, Angela."
"Oh, were you expecting one? Hmm. like last week, I suppose. But that was an occasion, a welcome-home party, you might say. Your father and I usually dine informally-just a quick bite, more often than not. That's all I've planned for tonight. I'm not even sure what time he'll be getting home."
"Does he have to work on weekends?"
"You poor darling, I guess you really miss him. No, something came up. some big business deal that demanded his personal attention today. And perhaps even tomorrow, he said-it's something that has to be settled before the stock market opens on Monday morning."
"Oh. I'm disappointed. Especially about not having family dinners, all of us cozy together. It was so nice last week. Even the formal part, I mean, the table was so beautiful. You fixed everything just perfect."
"Why, thank you, dear, that's a lovely compliment. I wondered if you even noticed, you were so upset at the time. If you liked it that much, maybe we should change our routine. Hmm. I might even call your father's office and find out when-"
"No, please don't. I wouldn't want to interfere with his work. It's not that urgent." Sherry shrugged disconsolately. "Still ... " She lowered her eyes in a spuriously shy gesture, masking the tiny surge of excitement brought on by her subtle strategy, this idea of taking advantage of the old man's absence. "No. I guess not. You probably wouldn't enjoy it."
"Hmm� Enjoy what?"
"Well, uh, just the two of us ... "
"Tonight? Let- me think. Of course, why not? Even if your father can't make it in time, you and I might get to know each other better. Would you like that? Formal dinner for two?"
"Oooh, yes, I'd love it. But I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble. Are you sure it's not too much-"
"Hush, dear. No trouble at all. I'll arrange everything. You just get yourself prettied up and come down in about an hour. Perhaps we can even have a drink together. I think you're old enough for a glass of wine, don't you?"
Sherry nodded dutifully and trotted off, giving way to her impulse to snicker only after reaching her own room. Old enough to drink wine; big deal! The newly ordained young stepmother was playing her maternal role to the hilt, apparently. Still, it was a good beginning thus far and the immediate prospects looked even better. Without the business tycoon around to preside over the table, getting friendly "just between us girls" would be that much easier. If he would only stay away long enough! Anyway, she was resolved to make the most of the auspicious circumstances, come what may.
An hour later, wearing one of her best frocks, she went downstairs to the dining room. Angela too had obviously dressed in a spirit of festivity, a vision of slim-waisted and full-bosomed blonde beauty sheathed in slinky black. The table was laid with an elegant charm, just a shade less formal than before -but despite the elegance, there seemed to be something missing somehow. And not until she had taken a few sips of her wine did Sherry realize what the gap was. A centerpiece of flowers had replaced the candlesticks, and now the glare of the electric lights overhead all but destroyed the cozy effect.
"No candles?" she murmured, holding up her glass. "Don't they go together, candlelight and wine?"
"You're probably right, dear. But that big bowl of flowers crowded them off the table."
"Oh. Too bad."
"Why? Does it matter?"
"Well, no, not exactly. But flickering candles always make everything look so much prettier. Couldn't we have them anyway?"
Angela rose from her chair. "If you insist."
"But-but I'm not insisting ... "
It was too late, though; Angela was already placing the silver candlesticks on the table. She lit the wicks and then snapped the overhead lights off. The change was remarkable, the gentle glow turning harsh lines to softly shadowed curves.
"There now, is that better?"
"Yes, thanks. But you needn't have gotten up just for me. I really wasn't trying to criticize. Now maybe you're thinking I've got some sort of quirk about candles. Like a romantic schoolgirl obsession ... "
"Obsession." Angela choked on her drink. But it soon became evident that she was giggling, not choking. As though she had just thought of something hilarious.
"Hey. what's so funny?"
"Nothing, dear. Nothing to speak of."
"But you were laughing so ... " Sherry's voice faded. "Oh! Nothing to speak of, eh?". She erupted in a giggling fit of her own, delighted to see the bawdy humor in her innocent remark.
Angela stared, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Young lady, are we both laughing at the same thing?"
"What else? The kids in school used to sing a song about it. Rhymes with scandals. And ax-handles. Right?"
"Hmph! That must have been some school you went to."
But the indignant attitude didn't quite come off, not with that noticeable twinkle igniting those deep brown eyes. Her stepmother's show of displeasure could only have been counterfeit. Even now the pretty red lips .were still twitching in constrained mirth.
"Oh, don't blame the school. The headmistress would have died if she ever heard us. I'll bet that dried-up old prune had a candle hidden away herself."
"Sherry!"
"You're shocked, huh? Well, you shouldn't be. I know my father still thinks of me as a little girl-he probably always will-but I sure wish you wouldn't. Won't you give me the benefit of the doubt? Even teen-agers know what it's all about these days."
"Do you? Do you know what it's all about?"
Sherry hesitated. Should she or shouldn't she? The conversation had taken an unexpected twist-sexy, to say the least. The topic was bouncing around like a breezy balloon now, and she hadn't even been instrumental in bringing it up. But what the hell, why-not put it to good advantage? The ice was already broken. Wouldn't a little frank girl-talk draw them closer together?
"Yes. Of course." Her tone was flat, unequivocal. "I do know what it's all about."
"But ... uh, have you ever ... uh ... "
"Oh, you don't have to worry, I haven't gone that far yet. No cause for alarm. I'm still a shy young virgin."
"Well, that's a relief."
"Is it?" Sherry's saucy expression turned abruptly serious. "Hmm. I can see it is. You really are concerned, huh? And here I've had the impression that you didn't give a damn about me one way or the other-I've misjudged you and I'm truly sorry. Forgive me?"
"Nothing to forgive. I'm sorry, too, darling. It's my fault as much as yours, more than likely. But believe me, I do care, you're my husband's daughter and I care very much. I'd like to try to be a real mother to you."
"No. Please, no, I don't want that. Not a mother. We're to near the same age. Just be my friend, that's all I ask, just be somebody I can talk to, somebody I can confide in. Will you?"
"I most certainly will. You may bank on it." Angela grinned weakly, making an obvious attempt to ease the emotional tension. "But you mustn't shock me like that, you rascal. Or at least give me fair warning first. Next time you tell a story about your headmistress, break it to me gently. I'm an old married woman, remember."
"Oh sure, old as Miss America and twice as gorgeous. But did I really shock you, I mean really? If so, maybe I'd better keep my big mouth shut in the future. I get pretty talkative when the mood strikes me. A little too much. And some of the things that happened at school were kind of wild, you know?"
"Wild. I can guess. And then again maybe I can't. Oh, all. right, you imp, I give up. You've got me bursting with curiosity. And anyway, censorship isn't exactly my favorite sport. So if you feel like spilling the beans, go ahead, don't let me stop you. Could be I'll learn something; just how wicked can teen-age girls get?"
That was incentive enough. And for the edification-and enticement-of her stepmother, Sherry waxed eloquent. She started with a relatively mild incident, but it soon became clear that her listener was enthralled by anything that smacked of illicit sex. Especially the type of sex that might take place among blossoming maidens faced with the boy-scarce boredom of an exclusive school for girls.
Then, interrupting herself, "Hey, this makes me feel like a dirty old lecher. Angela, are you sure I'm not corrupting you?"
"Silly. I've been around. At this stage, I'm incorruptible. I can be seduced but not corrupted, not any more. And as for you being a dirty old lecher- hah!-that's ridiculous. Carry on, dear. I love your schoolgirl stories. More fun than TV anytime. Simply yummy ... "
"Seduced, you said?"
"Well. In a manner of speaking. Do go on." Sherry continued enthusiastically, exciting herself, too, now, more conscious of her audience than ever. Angela seemed utterly fascinated, her shiny eyes and flushed cheeks soon becoming an incentive to dramatize the graphic account beyond the bounds of truth. With inspiration like that, who could blame a storyteller for embroidering the facts here and there? The woman looked almost ecstatic. Sexy blonde bitch ...
Gratified by such apparent approval, Sherry loosened up and allowed her imagination free rein. Actually, her own past experience was still the basic underlying thread, but she managed to keep herself untainted and comparatively innocent throughout, relocating each scene at the Swiss school instead of the Paris apartment. And yet she was aware that her personal involvement must have been at least vaguely recognizable to her now sensitively attuned young stepmother. That opinion was corroborated when the narrative finally ran down. Angela could hardly wait to point an accusing finger.
"Oooh, what a story! I'll bet you were in it yourself though, you sly little pussycat."
"Who, me?"
"Uh-huh. I'll bet you were one of the wild ones, too."
"Ask me no questions ... " Then, with a self-conscious giggle, "I'd better plead the Fifth Amendment. Self-incrimination, you know?"
"All right, keep your secret." Angela pouted, visibly nettled by the rebuff. "I really ought to start stacking the dishes, anyway. Unless you'd like some more dessert?"
"I'm full up, thanks. But let me help."
"Oh, don't bother. It'll only take a minute."
Sherry leaped to her feet, hopeful of regaining the conviviality, the lost rapport. But it would take more than just an offer to help with the dishes, no doubt. Oh shit, does it have to end like this? The impulse struck, imprudent but irresistible, and she followed through swiftly, moving around the table to catch that sulky face with both hands, cupping the smooth-skinned cheeks in her palms. "Yes! You're right. I was one of the wild ones. And aren't you glad?"
Silence. While she waited, heart thumping, all the rash bravado draining away. And then those shocked brown eyes tinkled roguishly and a tiny pink tongue crept out to lick the red lips ...
"Little hussy. Now it's my turn to plead the Fifth Amendment, how do you like that? Ask me no questions and-" The phone rang, turning the protest to a peal of laughter as Angela shook herself free and stood up. "Saved by the bell!" Still laughing, she raced out into the living room to answer it.
The vanishing view of that magnificent body made Sherry wince in frustration. She trailed along, eager to remain close, less fearful now of the consequences of any further impulsive action. And less hesitant about trying her luck, of course, no longer content to accept mere friendship as a goal. The prize was just too tempting, too fabulous; her father's wife, what a lark!
"Oh, that man ... " Standing and swaying impatiently, Angela had one hand clapped over the mouthpiece. "He just can't call me without another telephone ringing on his desk. Even on a weekend, imagine! He says hello and then lets me hang here. Oh! Stop that! Stop, you silly girl, just what do you think you're doing?"
This time the protest sounded sincere enough, but Sherry ignored it blithely and persevered, finding her prey left deliciously vulnerable by the two-handed grip on the telephone. She drew the tense figure into the circle of her arms, presenting her own equally taut form as a leaning place. The contact sparked a surge of increased desire, the initial full-bodied contact with all that womanly beauty; ah yes, this was a woman, a grown woman with big beautiful tits -and wasn't the sensation simply marvelous after a lifetime of nothing but scrawny A-cup adolescents?
She slid her hands down the quivering spine, sucking in her breath sharply as they curved under and shaped themselves to the soft and supple buttock globes. Such a superb ass, such gloriously developed asscheeks! She could feel them twitching stiffly against the pressure, resisting the clutch of her fingers but already yielding gradually, unable to maintain the rigid muscular contraction-yielding ever more noticeably even as the muttered denials singed her ear. Their bodies were grinding together, one forceful, one reluctant, grinding through the tiered fabric of feminine garments, belly to belly. Cunt to cunt ...
"Felix? I'm going to hang up, do you hear me? Oh, you're back. How soon will you be home? Yes, dear, I'm listening, I'm listening."
The voice over the wire freed Angela's hand to fend off the attack, but her divided attention rendered the effort futile, scarcely more than a token gesture. Heady with triumph, Sherry relaxed her pressure and worked boldly on the zipper of the black dress, baring the creamy shoulders with almost a flourish. She could see those big bulgy tits stretching the wisp of bra-satin as if begging to escape. And with a minimum of fumbling she undid the catch and exposed the round nipples, marveling at the denuded perfection and quite intrigued by the color, a uniquely novel flesh tone somewhere between rose and copper. Like a certain shade of ocean coral, the iridescent red variety. Stunning! But hardly more so than the rest of the picture, a lovely fantasy come to life, a fantasy in glamorous cream and gold.
The naked nipples appealed most at the moment, though, and she lowered her head to pounce upon one with sucking lips. It dilated to the touch, all stiff and swollen inside the vacuum of her mouth, throbbing under the caress of her curled tongue-tip and then oozing out almost grudgingly when she ended the kiss to transfer to the other nipple. And still the telephone conversation went on-something about theater tickets now, tickets for Wednesday, an evening of gaiety to make up for this weekend-a discussion obviously exasperating to poor harassed Angela in spite of the cheerful subject matter. Her inept defense had languished to a mere flutter; she seemed quite limp now, limp all over, except for the two rebellious nipple-buds.
Sherry hated to leave the little darlings, but the sudden limpness was like an invitation to explore further. And toward an even more delectable destination, of course. She sank to the floor, kneeling, her face tucked into the warm underbelly, both hands already slipping up the backs of the sleek nylon-clad legs to a kind of stroking embrace, capturing and caressing at the same time. Up behind the nyloned knees, up past the double thickness that suddenly seemed coarse by comparison; how soft that skin felt, how indescribably soft to her fingertips! She was tempted to stay and luxuriate awhile, but a greater temptation beckoned her onward.
The skirt was climbing, too, snagged on the arc of her slowly spreading elbows. Hastening the movement, she slumped a bit lower to grope for the hem with a thrust and tilt of her cunt, uncoiling then to ruck it up high enough to hug the broadening hip-curve, tight enough to cling there by itself. After that it was easy, just a dip of her head and she had all that womanly softness enveloping her cheeks, a frame of tremulous thigh-flesh. Limp thighs, astir only with the ripple of aroused desire. The signs were unmistakable-she could even breathe it now, the odor of sex, the steamy fragrance that was part perfume and part pussy, mmmmmm, the sweet smell of success! And there was more where that came from ...
"Oh. Another hour yet? Poor dear. All right, I won't hold dinner for you then. But promise me you'll order up something nourishing, not just a sandwich. Uh-huh. Bye."
The call was over at last, the clatter of the cradled telephone ushering in an ominous lull, a sudden cleft in the continuity. Sherry glanced up. The moment for remorse and recriminations? Perhaps even a temper tantrum, all righteous wrath, and indignation! And yet Angela was just standing there in mute desperation, standing and swaying and staring off into space, all but ignoring her state of undress. Although it must have been a somewhat difficult problem to ignore, the drooped-over d�colletage and hiked-up hemline. And still she just stared- and swayed and seemed to stagger a little, becoming a problem herself now. Sagging. On the verge of collapse, apparently.
On the verge of orgasm?
Not likely. On the verge of something, though, and Sherry shattered the brittle suspense, scrambling upright just in time to grab hold and stave off disaster. A wan grin conveyed only gratitude for her help-no reproach, no rancor, no hint of anger about to explode. Slowly, ever so slowly, she guided their shuffling steps toward the sofa. And only then, flopping back into the downy cushions, did Angela appear to recognize her plight.
"Oh! I-I feel so naked. What are you doing to me, you naughty girl! Your father might walk in ..."
"Hush. He said at least an hour, remember? We're alone, just the two of us, the loveliest of Mends, aren't we?" Sherry's fingers performed a rite on the unprotected bosom, waving like little magic wands over the already sensitized nipples. "Aren't we lovely together? Oh, I just wish there was a mirror here, a full-size one right up close-then you'd see how beautiful we are. Blonde and brunette, just made for each other." Then, wryly, but just a shade wistful, "Hey, you know something? Maybe it's fate, maybe it was bound to happen. Like in the movies, huh? You know. Darling, it's bigger than both of us. Isn't that what they always say?"
Wild giggles erupted in concert, a lilting silvery mirth that Sherry took as a good omen, an authentic go-ahead signal. Anyway, a little laughter sure helped; the panicky mood had dissipated like reflections on a soap-bubble, leaving behind only the dregs of foolish qualms and scruples. Angela's eyes were misty and her lips parted, the tumble of lustrous golden hair divinely crownlike. Telltale tremors of excitement stirred her half-clothed body; yet she seemed to be struggling, still holding back, still locked up inside herself. But eager for more, obviously, ready to be unlocked and liberated-and now suddenly all thoughts of intrigue and influence were erased from Sherry's mind. This, right now, this in itself was enough. The smooth skin, the alluring sleek softness of woman-flesh. The pouty-ripe rosebud mouth that breathed perfume and sweet wine. The cream and gold loveliness, still reserving its ultimate treasure, an unsolved mystery shrouded in slinky if somewhat disheveled black. There. Uh-huh. Wasn't that where the lock was?
Oh shit, yes, and I've got the key! Just a twist of the tongue, that's all it takes, my little pink girl-tongue inside your big red woman-cunt. The right key for the right lock ...
It was in the cards, a foregone conclusion. Fate, surely, what else? Deftly, dexterously, Sherry soothed away the few remaining scruples and manipulated her softly sighing young stepmother into a dreamy fervor. Only then did she give way to her natural curiosity and venture into the darkness. But she already knew what it would be like, of course; it was as if she had always know. Drenched in scent and dripping with sex. The most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her. A miracle, truly, the miracle of love-astonishing and yet somehow not unexpected. Odd. Had it been waiting for her from the moment she first laid eyes on this voluptuous creature?
Too bad she hadn't recognized it then. The day they met. Love at first sight would have been more romantic. Oh well, this way had a certain flavor of its own-love at first suck?-not exactly romantic, but it did have a kind of earthy charm ...
"Darling? Listen. I'm glad. I really am."
"Hmm?"
"At that school you went to. I'm glad you were one of the wild ones. Damn glad!"
The cunt-lips went wide, opening around the bobbing wedge of her face, and Sherry could only imbibe greedily and realize all over again just how miraculous such love could be. It was true, then, no put-on, no corny joke, it's bigger than both of us!- and she wallowed in the blissful magnitude of her discovery, dazed but still sharply aware that this dazzling blonde sex-witch had become terribly important in the new pattern of her life.
Chapter Six
The feeling of remorse hung on unabated, but so did the other thing, the nice part-so vivid in every detail'-the memory of yesterday's unique excitement ... And when her husband left for his office shortly after Sunday brunch, Angela was torn by conflicting emotions. Should she back down and allow a repeat performance? Her own stepdaughter, imagine, wasn't that almost incestuous?
They were alone in the apartment again; Felix would be gone all afternoon and the servants had the day off. How convenient! Or how dangerous, maybe? Like putting dope in front of someone already inclined to addiction ...
Ugh. Hardly an apt parallel. Farfetched, anyway -no reason to start labeling herself an addict. One swallow doesn't make a summer. And aside from its shock value, yesterday's sexy interlude just didn't stack up as a major event. Not exactly trivial, of course, but still no big deal. Rather sweet, though, especially in a delicate sort of way-no wild orgy, just a mild diversion. Mild and gentle. And so very tender, too! Almost like sinking into a huge casserole of marshmallows. Toasted. Sugary sweet and feathery light. Mmm, yes, even the memory was like that. Yummy. But still pretty frivolous.
Just one of those things, then. But revealing, to say the least-it had certainly brought to light a side of her nature that had lain in shadow for ages. Funny. Until yesterday, she had all but forgotten her old friend Denise. And now those memories were back. Denise-her best buddy during the show-business days. Her confidante. Her roommate. Her bedmate too, at times, even if the room happened to have twin beds; what else could a girl do when the going got rough? Show business glittered out front, but behind the tinsel there was a lot of loneliness and frustration and broken promises; oh hell, ordinary sympathy just wasn't enough-and who could a poor downtrodden doll turn to when every "nice guy" she ran across was only trying to con her into a quick lay?
Actually, it never did get serious, the thing with Denise. Just two young showgirls having a little safe-type fun and finding relief for their pent-up passions. Quite innocent, as a rule. Certainly they had never become lesbians in the true sense of the word; after all, she was a happily married woman now. Although she couldn't vouch for Denise, really, not since they broke up-they just didn't keep in touch any more. That too had been cause for remorse once, she still had Denise's new phone number around somewhere but had never bothered to use it, not even to return that last call. A bit snobbish, no doubt, brushing off an old friend so coolly, but those days were gone forever, a closed chapter in the life of ex-showgirl Mrs. Felix Bartholomew. And in a dog-eat-dog world, guilt like that was too petty to lose any sleep over.
Nevertheless, the faded picture seemed poignant all of a sudden, revived and restored to prominence by yesterday's surprising episode. Maybe the experience had been more profound than she figured. And yet she couldn't conceive of a gay tussle affecting her with any great depth. It never had before. Why should that change now? More to the point, why should she feel the change now? Did it all date back to the earlier affair; were her gay tendencies that strong but always unconsciously suppressed?
Well? How about it, do I really go for women?
No, not women. Only one. One precocious young lady with bright blue eyes and jet-black hair and a fund of lesbian lore far beyond her years. And if that came under the heading of incest ...
Almost intuitively, Angela's hands moved to her breasts, the fingers seeking to duplicate a certain sensation stored in her memory-bank, experimenting with a graduation of placements and pressures in search of that one exquisitely unbearable caress. They didn't quite make it, but a rushing recollection of warmth, the easily identifiable moist warmth of lips-coy girl-lips!-sent the blood surging to her brain. A melting dizziness engulfed her, acutely reminiscent of what she had felt under the spellbinding reality of the lips themselves. Until her hands insisted on moving again, another experimental effort, apparently determined to prolong the sweet agony. Down over her belly this time, a gliding and grazing of palms inside the loosely belted robe, down to the convergent swell of her thighs. Where the fingers were like tiny feathers now, teasing and titillating but never quite satisfying-incapable of becoming other than just fingers, her own all-too-familiar fingers with those long pointy fingernails. Too bad! No fault of hers, perhaps, but still pretty aggravating, a dreary letdown to a lovely mood.
Too bad about something else, though-the boo-boo at brunch this morning-and she had nobody to blame but herself for that one! True, the kid shouldn't have whispered in her ear like that, but Felix had his nose buried in the Times weekend business review and it would have passed unnoticed anyway. Only the whisper was so smutty, so shameless!-her ear sizzled and her cheeks flamed and she must have blushed seven shades of scarlet-no wonder she got mad and chilled the kid with an icy glare that shut her up for good. The little monster took it hard, too; for a while there she looked like a frostbitten Eskimo infant all alone in her igloo. With no sign of a thaw afterward, either-straight on up to her room, just like that, and she was probably still sulking there. And what a waste, really, now that they had the house to themselves again. Those hot lips! Too bad, too bad. That talented tongue ...
Oh hell, wasn't it silly to sit around and brood. Angela reached a speedy decision; right or wrong, she would have to make the first overture-why postpone it any. longer? Why not just go and get it done with? Even apologize, if necessary. And just in case, well, maybe it would be smart to put on something spectacular to wear over there, something sexy enough to become a conversation-piece. Just to fill any awkward gap. One of her lacy peek-a-boo negligees, perhaps?
No. Lace was surefire with men, but it would take something more bizarre to appeal to such a sophisticated young sexpot. She might go naked, of course, naked in high heels-but that would be a little obvious, no doubt. And possibly a little embarrassing, too, if the kid didn't defrost right away. Standing naked in an ice-cold igloo was no way to begin an apology!
Mulling the problem over, Angela redid her makeup with a brisk technique born of long practice, going extra heavy on the eye-shadow to give herself an ultra-feminine look. She peered into the mirror critically, examining her work from every angle. Yes, that would do-feminine, extremely so, and suitable to the occasion, just right to play the seductive whore for her boyish little lover.
Hmm. Whore?
That did it. Chuckling at the notion, she pawed through the more kinky section of her wardrobe and found the requisite items for her role. And some ten minutes later, she was tapping on Sherry's door hopefully in a voluminous floor length peignoir that covered everything but her casually tossed hair and carefully made-up face.
The door swung open. "Oh, it's you , ... "
The greeting was somewhat less than enthusiastic, but Angela brushed right by without waiting for an invitation. "Okay if I sit and chat awhile?" She dropped into a chair, swinging her legs up over the arm with a flounce of the peignoir and a wry grimace. "Damn! This big thing I'm wearing catches on every corner. I almost tripped over it in the hall."
"So take it off, why don't you?" Sherry shrugged. "Get comfortable. Go ahead, don't mind me." Then, squinting quizzically, "Hey! What's with the heels and hose? What have you got on underneath?"
"Oh ... just some odds and ends ... "
"Yeah? Like what?"
"You want an inventory? Hush now, I'm just getting relaxed enough to speak my piece. Listen, honey, about this morning at the table-"
"Forget it, Angela. Please?"
"But-but we can't just sweep it under the rug. How will I ever know if you're, still angry with me or not?"
"I'm not angry. But I will be, if you keep harping on it."
Angela acceded warily, speechless for the moment, somewhat upset by the girl's sudden air of regality. It seemed spontaneous, a physical accompaniment to her apparent mental attitude, the kind of subdued poise that just barely camouflaged an inner arrogance. She looked beautiful doing it, though, imperially slim in a blue tailored robe, quite the young aristocrat, confident of her stature in society.
"Friends again?" Sherry offered her hand, smiling. "All that fuss about a little whisper ... "
And as she felt the entwining softness of those slender fingers, Angela knew that there was nothing she could deny this remarkable child. Only she didn't dare show it openly, not when her position as mistress of the household was at stake. It could turn out to be dangerous, this situation she was letting herself slide into, the danger of strife and turmoil even within the newly shared secret of their relationship. Dangerous in many ways. Dangerous but exciting! And she had gone without this kind of excitement too long; wasn't it a thrill just to recognize it, to feel it pulsating around her?
"Some little whisper! You imp, I'm still blushing." She crossed her dangling legs, spuriously casual, rearranging the peignoir flounces as a backdrop instead of a curtain. "I did blush, you know. My face was on fire."
"Never mind. We're not talking about that, remember? Besides, right now I'm looking at your legs and wondering where those stockings lead. Don't you want to take that damned tent off?"
"I'd better not."
"Come on, what's the big secret? It's not fair, getting my curiosity all aroused and then-"
"Okay, okay. But don't say I didn't warn you." Angela stood up and whipped the peignoir off. "See?"
"Wow ... "
"It's a waist-cincher. Makes me feel wicked. I'm supposed to look like a whore in it. What do you think?" The erotic garb was an inducement to audacity. She lifted her arms seductively and performed a languorous pirouette, teetering on the perch of her high heels. "Now if I really was a whore ... "
"Huh?"
It was a moment to savor, and Angela could almost see her beauty mirrored in those adoring young eyes. Her arms sank slowly, traveling down her body in a sinuous glide, the motion becoming increasingly-lewd. "Honey? Little girl?" The sound of her voice was only vaguely familiar, soft and throaty and thick with charged emotion. "I'm your whore, your depraved bitch of a whore." Her breasts were billowing only scant inches from the flushed face. "Here! You like? They're all yours, just waiting for your hot little mouth."
"Oh! Let me, let me!" Sherry fell forward limply.
"Sure, honeybunch, sure ... " Stroking the dark head, Angela beamed triumphantly, peering down through slitted eyes. Ah yes, now the lips were where she wanted them, the moist warm lips, so impatient! But even in the heat of her triumph, she remained lucid enough to be self-critical. Why the rush? It was too soon, too soon, at this rate it would all be over too soon. That was how a man made love, ram-bam-thank-you-ma'm, a jackrabbit on the run. Oh hell, if a woman couldn't do better than that ...
"Angela? What-what's the matter? Why are you ___"
"I just got curious myself. Let's see what I'm getting; it's about time, isn't it? Come on, take that robe off, you don't have to be bashful with a whore."
"Bashful? Me? Hah!"
The tailored robe was off and tossed aside in a single swipe, and Angela could only gaze enraptured, gulping at the vision-the fine artistic curve of shoulders and back rounding into lyrically symmetrical hips, the firm undercurve of her still blossoming breasts, the chaste white belly, dark-tufted, cleaving into long lithe limbs. Beautiful! And the twin buttock mounds, smooth and taut-skinned, with only the tiniest hint of a dimple in each; had she ever seen anything so beautiful?
A compliment would have been in order, but her throat was too clogged and she just held her arms out to resume the embrace. But the bare flesh in her hands triggered something new inside her, an urge that she scarcely understood. The soft-cheeked young face was between her breasts and moving downward now, leaving a trail of kisses from the wet little mouth. But it wasn't enough, it just wasn't enough to stand there passively and do nothing. Her muscles craved action, her body craved movement- and deep within, as though seeing herself for the first time, Angela recognized all that craving for what it really was.
Dragging the nude body down with her. she settled to the floor. For a long moment she rested in a semi-stupor, caught between the sheer bliss of the lips upon her flesh and the throbbing, insistent urge that was turning her immobility into torment. But the delay was too much to bear, and at last she moved to meet the inevitable, head-on, motivated by a force far more powerful than herself ...
"Hey! Angela?"
"Mmm ... "
"How come?"
"Hmm ?"
"I mean why the sudden change?"
"Oh. Don't you want me to?"
"That's not the point. Do you want to?".
"Yes, of course, that's why I'm-"
"Wait. Listen. Remember what I whispered in your ear at the table? You thought it was dirty, that's why you got so mad. And now you're going to do it, right?"
"Well ... "
"You don't think it's dirty any more?"
"I never said it was. Sherry, it was just the way you told me, the way you whispered the words ... "
"That's all? Oh shit, and I figured it was something serious. We can't let a few words stand between us, can we? Tell you what, you just say the same thing to me and then we'll be even. You can say it right out loud, though, no need to whisper."
"Darling ... just let me kiss you ... "
"Shit! That's not what I whispered. Come on, say it before we both cool off."
Cooling off was an impossibility; the other choice was by far the lesser of the two evils. Angela didn't really mind. Although she couldn't help wishing it had come as a suggestion rather than a command. Hmm. Maybe it would even pay to anticipate a little and make the next one sound like her own idea. Next one. Next time. Whenever. If she could only think of what to say! But almost anything would do, of course, anything to keep the kid from assuming too much authority and getting carried away with her own importance. For that matter, next time was right now ...
"Sherry? Your cunt. I'll suck your cunt."
"Oooh! That's exciting. And wasn't it easy to say? I'll bet it didn't even seem dirty to you."
"It didn't. Not dirty enough, not nearly! But don't worry, darling, I'll fix that. Your wicked old bitch of a stepmother knows how to keep her little baby-doll happy. I'm your own sexy whore and I love that pretty pink cunt of yours. I'll lick it and lap it and nuzzle your clit-button and smear my whorish makeup all around inside, way down deep. Only you'll have to do something for me, too. You'll have to come. Or else I'll be disappointed. Come big! Enough cunt-yummy to last me till next weekend, you hear?"
"Yeah. I'm hot. Oh shit, I'm so hot! Do it now, suck me, suck my cunt. You got me all hot just talking, you know? I sure never whispered anything like that in your ear."
"I'm improvising. Not bad, eh? Maybe I'll learn to improvise in my sucking, too. For a pretty little pussy like this ... mmm ... "
"Oooh! What was that? No, never mind, just go to work down there, you slutty cuntlapper, fuck me with your face!"
It was quite new to Angela, new and beyond comparison, beyond any known system of evaluation, as far as she could tell. Others in the past may have been lucky enough to reach that pitch of erotic intensity, but at this point in time it was hers and hers alone, a wondrous plateau, not a hasty peak. It startled her, actually, bringing her back down to earth for a fleeting instant of rational thought, the kind of thought better left buried in some leak proof chamber of the brain. Toxic. Just waiting to contaminate her entire life ...
"You whore! You dirty cuntlapping whore! Now! Here's a mouthful for you, don't choke on it. Suck!"
Fingers clutched her hair, tugging fiercely, hurting a little and yet finding room for such pain in the totality of pleasure. She sank into timeless ecstasy, fulfilling the demand of her darling little captor, fulfilling the demand within her own soul-troubled only by the residue of that one unwanted thought. Odd that it should have taken so much to make her realize how bored she had become with Felix lately. The poor dear could take lessons from his own daughter.
Chapter Seven
The blinds were drawn, but enough of the late afternoon sun filtered through to cast a soft glow over the room; it seemed to thicken and converge on the bed nearest the window. And on the sleeping figure asprawl and entangled in a spiral of bedsheets, truly a breathtaking sight! Kim shut the door quietly and just stood there, giving her eyes a treat. She shivered a little, an emotional reaction that ignored the warm temperature, and then swung around to jam a tilted chair under the doorknob. That was almost routine now, despite the local customs and traditions-a security measure based on fact rather than faith.
Routine or not, though, the action never failed to elicit a special tingle of its own, a secret thrill that only Kim herself could appreciate. The chair kept the rest of the world out, but it also sealed her in, remaining right there against the door until further orders. And considering her vow of obedience, she might just as well be locked in a steel bank vault. With the combination known only to the boss. So the tilted chair became a symbol of her captivity, turning voluntary servitude into enforced slavery- certainly a thrill of sorts for someone of her submissive nature! Although she did wish that idea would occur to her beloved mistress once in a while; why couldn't such a profound mind be a shade more perceptive? It wasn't just a chair ...
Oh well, all in good time. Sherry was obviously a beginner at this sort of thing, still feeling her way cautiously, still on the lookout for limitations that simply didn't exist. Just let that shell of caution crack, though, and who knew what exotic new worlds would be theirs to explore; who could tell what magic doors might open to those who understood the secret of the tilted chair? It shouldn't take very long, either. Power corrupts. Just let her once recognize that what power she had was already absolute; oh shit, wouldn't that be some stirred-up hornet's nest!
Kim undressed, putting away the naked sleeper's tossed-off garments along with her own. Naked herself now, she padded around the room setting things in order, quite conscientious about her self-imposed daily duty. It was a labor of love. And as always, just doing these small chores started the tension building inside her, the sweet tension that could only lead to an all-out pursuit of sweeter satisfaction. She sensed the familiar excitement of it, the breathless feeling that always came with this mood of subservience-part servant, part slave, all masochist! Wouldn't it be grand if the tilted chair took root and locked them in here together like this forever?
There. The job was finished. At least she could stop and look now without shirking, a welcome relief after turning her eyes away for so long. With that nude body so conspicuously on display, the torture of waiting was just too much. Some tortures were fun, really, and certain tortures could be utterly exquisite, but avoiding that delectable vision for the purpose of work simply wasn't one of them. Even the lowliest and most obedient of slaves could lack patience at times ...
Ah, but it was worth waiting for! Even in the midst of a lazy afternoon nap, Sherry exuded sensuality. Aglow in the haze of deepening sunlight, her skin had the patina of burnished gold; she lay on her side, one leg extended, the other flexed and drawn up, a figure of sleepy innocence awash in an aura of sin. The sheet, wrinkled and twisted, made no more than a pretense of concealment, allowing even a bit of dark hair to peep out from the vanishing apex of the contoured calf and delicately rounded thigh. Dark curly cunt-hair! While up above, only partially draped, the pink tip of one curved breast seemed to quiver with each intake and exhalation of breath.
Surrendering to temptation, Kim seated herself gingerly on the edge of the bed. Her heart pounded. She grazed the slim leg with her fingertips, testing for some reaction, and then flattened her hand upon a soft swell of thigh-flesh. The tingling sensation intrigued her-velvety smooth and yet somehow like the prickling of a thousand pinpoints in her palm. She recognized a response then, a slight squirming and shifting of the unconscious body; it got pretty scary for a moment, but then everything quieted down again and she continued her caress. This time, unable to resist the demands of her own stirring ardor, she bent her head and became almost bold with a light but lingering pressure of her lips ...
A sigh sounded. Then, abruptly, "What the hell!"
Kim sat up, keenly aware of her error in judgment. What began as a small kiss had become open-mouthed worship, more than enough to dispel sleep. Her stomach turned stiff, queasy; she felt almost sick with anxiety over what this rash indiscretion might bring. And then, unaccountably, she found herself just as concerned about what it might not bring. Sherry's peeve had faded all too swiftly, now there was only drowsy indifference on her face, an expression of leavy-lidded apathy. With perhaps just a hint of querulous curiosity replacing the lost anger as she glanced at the clock.
"It's early yet. How come you woke me up?"
"Guess I goofed, huh? Sorry."
"You goofed, you goofed. But why?"
"I-I just felt like it, that's all."
"You felt like it! Some excuse. Is that the best you can do? And what are you grinning about?" Sherry seemed less apathetic now, a faint flicker of comprehension imparting extra life to her quizzical features. "Are you happy because I'm awake?"
"Oh, don't make such a big deal out of it. I said I was sorry, didn't I? What more do you want?"
"Big deal. Hmm. I'm beginning to get the message. So it's mutiny, huh? Now that's a big deal, I'd say."
Kim shrugged. But the sleepy eyes were narrowing to slits, dark slits of glittering menace, and deep inside her there was a fluttery intimation of warmth. Her breasts felt strangely sensitive, even a little bit swollen. Something was going on in the pit of her belly, too, something weird ...
"Wipe that silly grin off your face!" The dark eyes blazed in sudden fury. "And who gave you the right to sit on my bed like that? Get down on your knees where you belong!"
A hand shot out and grabbed Kim's shoulder. She winced as the fingernails dug deep, scrambling from the bed to the floor in a hurry but unable to shake off that relentless grip. Inside her the warmth had outgrown its fluttering stage to seethe and sizzle turbulently, a heat bubbling in her loins; now. The heat of sexual excitement. Her shoulder was still shackled by the vengeful clutching claw, and yet the pain wasn't really all that unbearable somehow. She almost welcomed it. The sharp nails were driving home a point: apparently this roommate of hers was no longer such a beginner after all!
Sherry swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Next time maybe you won't be so snotty." The cruel grip slacked off at last, but then her hand lashed out across Kim's face. "Bad enough to wake me up ... " She struck again. "But snotty-no, I won't stand for that kind of shit! This'll teach you ... " Again and again she swung, her palm making contact almost methodically. Then, with a small snort of finality, "There now, that should clear up any doubts. Now kiss my hand and let me know you understand."
Whimpering in her throat, Kim bowed her head to offer the requisite kiss. The compulsory kiss. Only it was far more than that now-a zealous kiss, an impassioned kiss, a kiss of joy! She was kissing the hand that had slapped her. Her cheeks were aflame from the vicious blows. But there was something wildly exciting going on inside herself, something she could make out only vaguely in the swirling crimson mist of her mind. Like a poignant surge of humility, perhaps, the gush of a grateful slave-and with no further command to spur her on, she crouched low to grovel at the feet of her mistress. Beautiful bare feet, as kissable as hands ...
"Well now. For a kid who acted so smart-ass snotty just a couple of minutes ago, you're sure learning."
"I-I really was snotty. I'm sorry." Fawning, she licked the pretty toes, mumbling her words in a fervor of coy self-abasement. "You ought to punish me, I mean punish me good. More than just a slap in the face. I'd prob'ly learn better down at the other end."
"Huh? Other end?"
"You know. My butt. If you think I'm such a smart-ass ... "
"Oh. You're asking for it? You want your ass beat?"
"No! Of course not. It'll hurt. But how else will I ever learn to keep my big mouth shut? I mean if that's the only way to knock some sense into me ... " Then, shuddering, aghast at her own temerity, "What am I saying? Oh, I'm so dumb! I've had plenty of discipline for one day-forget I even mentioned it, will you?"
"Too late, baby, you should have thought of that sooner. Anyway, you know damn well you've been hankering for this, you've hinted at it long enough. Come up here. Lay your ass over my lap. Come on, you freaky bitch, you heard me, what the fuck are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Here! Let's go!"
The harsh tone took effect, spurring Kim up off the floor in swift compliance. Her legs straightened and then went weak beneath her as the prickly dampness between them turned her almost faint with pleasure. A fleeting sunbeam dazzled her eyes, drawing attention to the safely shut window-blinds -another symbol of sweet captivity!-but in this masochistic mood she wouldn't have cared if the entire world was watching. Breathless, she tumbled into place, her mind going blank momentarily as the physical impact overwhelmed all else, the sheer physical delight of her bare belly pressing down upon those bare thighs. Almost unwittingly, her body began squirming around in an unconscious effort to broaden the voluptuous contact.
"Hold still! Yeah. Some ass. Big fat lesbian ass, nice and soft so it won't bother my hand much. Well-padded, you know? An ass like this ought to take a walloping real easy."
Kim moaned and lay tense with tremulous foreboding, terribly aware of the spectacle she must have presented-ignominious with the now-added shame of her obesity, the huge buttocks jutting up behind. Buttocks beyond her control now, twitching and quaking and cringing at the idea of that hand suspended above them and likely to come crashing down at any instant. Fear vied with humiliation, making her doubly desperate for an end to the eerie suspense. And yet she couldn't recall a time of greater excitement; she had never felt so alive, so alert, so sensuously involved-awake to every nuance of this unendurable but utterly delicious horror. Even her flesh seemed to understand somehow, the prickly dampness between her legs was a submerged throbbing and churning now, the steamy rumble of a geyser about to erupt. As though her cunt too had already surmised that she was on the brink of some supreme love-experience.
It was no wonder then that the first slap came as something of a disappointment. Gentle, tentative, almost a caress; was it all just boiling down to a tempest in a teapot? Just going through the motions? She might have welcomed it under other circumstances, but not at this point, not with her ass so thoroughly primed for punishment.
"Yeah. Soft as a feather pillow, didn't hurt my hand at all. I guess it's safe to bang away maybe. I mean like thisss ... "
Kim gritted her teeth. Tempest in a teapot? The next few minutes had her wishing it was no more than that. She writhed and twisted, but there was no escape from the -murderous swing, a steady whack-whack-whack that showed signs of stretching into eternity. In a daze, she remembered that it was of her own making, provoked by her own idiotic prattle, but the memory was just a blur now-only the pain was real! Above her she could hear labored breathing, a symptom of heavy muscular exertion. They were both perspiring freely and she began to slip and slide on the moist thighs, pinned down only by the firm grip on the nape of her neck. And still the flailing hand continued its sting, generating a slew of sobs and wails that could no longer be stifled by clenched teeth. She wondered what it looked like back there, her fat ass shaking like jelly under that tough little palm, raspberry jelly, no doubt, a raspberry-red that would probably turn grape-purple overnight. If she lived that long.
Then, hazily, she detected a change in her reaction, almost too. gradual to follow. The pain had become less potent somehow, spreading outward from its fiery center and letting its power be absorbed by the surrounding flesh. It was more like a dissipating heat now, rippling through her body in waves of mildly erotic warmth, discovering a profusion of dormant nooks and crannies that needed only a touch to awaken. Intoxicating, in a way, melting all tension and leaving her limp and languorous. Their skin contact was still pretty slippery, though, and now she could squirm around a little and try to recapture that earlier voluptuous sensation. Uh-huh. Like that. Oh, good! Even with her ass on fire. There, too-the hair-the prickly-damp hair? So wild! Oooh, my cunt, my cunt, my cunt!
It was as if a bolt of ecstatic lightning had struck, snuffing out anguish with a heaven-sent current of lust-and all the sweat-slicked slipping and sliding focused on that one place, the drolly overflow that seemed to go on and on and on; could a climax actually stream? Could a shock prolong itself indefinitely? Or maybe it was all part of some strange and exquisite delirium. But she was getting dizzy from the lingering convulsion-an endless orgasm ?-too dizzy to cope with details and definitions. Too dizzy for anything but the enjoyment of her own cunt, her own non-stop creaming cunt ...
"Hey! You're leaking."
"Hmm?"
"Oh shit, me too. Damn near, anyway. I got turned on beating your ass like that."
After one last well-aimed whack, the grasp relented and Kim sank through the gaping thighs, slithering off sex-wet skin and landing with a thump. Despite the interrupted climax, her emotional state called for some token of obeisance, and she reached up from the floor to catch Sherry's hand. The hand that had blistered her bottom. It felt hot as she pressed her lips to the soft palm-as well it might, considering the condition of its target!
"Enough of that. You can kiss my cunt now. That's what you woke me up for, wasn't it?"
It seemed like ages ago, ancient history almost, and yet the same sun was shimmering through the blinds, gracing her penitence as it had glorified her sin. Of course, that was how it began, the same tempting pink fruit-forbidden no longer!-winking lewdly through the tendrils of its dark foliage. And that was how it would end, too, only better-the temptation was hers for the taking now! Edible. Kissable. Suckable ...
"Come on! Don't keep me waiting."
Renewed excitement blazed, blurring Kim's mind once again as she lunged for the first succulent mouthful. Thigh-warmth brushed both puffy cheeks, drawing a whimper from her lips, a muffled plea for pity, almost instinctive. But she only mired her tongue deeper and went on kissing when the limbs flexed and rose and came down upon her shoulders. Kissing. Licking. Sucking. Feasting on the flesh like a glutton forewarned of famine. Until the sudden clasp of firmly looped thighs around her head brought on a fresh flare-up of forgotten agony-ancient history again!-as cruel as any crown of thorns. It crushed her swollen cheeks. The inside of her mouth felt raw. Her lips cracked, her jaws ached, her skin smarted from the renascent sting of every slap in the face ...
"Hey, you! Get with it, cuntlapper. What's the matter, you tired already? Somebody tie a knot in your tongue? Oh shit, don't you dare poop out on me now!"
Kim managed to suppress her whimper. Bravely she bore the oppressive burden, letting it dominate and drive her back down into servitude, into the depths of slavery. The cunt-flesh twitched, vibrating deliciously in reply to her subservient caress. After a while she ignored the pain and burrowed in with more confidence, hoping to plunge herself into a frenzy of abandon. This was the part she loved most anyway, jamming her head in like a wedge, rubbing her face all around inside, clogging her nose and mouth with pure unadulterated cunt. Cunty cunt! Oh, she was such a pervert, so completely degenerate; why else would she be getting this excited again?
Funny. Thinking like that got her even hotter. It was good for her maybe, too bad she couldn't confess her sins in front of the whole world! Walk around naked wearing a sign that listed all her perversions, all she had submitted to. Maybe even some she had only imagined. Like walking around naked with that sign? Thrown out of every town, forced to run for her life, chased by a pack of women who didn't want their innocent young daughters contaminated by lesbian filth. Women with whips! Running after her, whipping her out of town, the dirty pervert, the filthy little shit ...
"Yeah, now you're sucking! You had me worried there, I figured maybe that workout I gave your ass didn't do much for you. It's sure red, though. And so is my poor hand, too. Spanking is for the birds, you know? I ought to have a whip instead, a small one so that we can keep it hidden away. Don't you agree?"
"Ummm ... "
"Okay, just nod your head. Look around for one next time you go home, will you? I'll do the same. One of us might get lucky and stumble across something we can use. Nice little whip-shouldn't be too hard to find, huh?"
"Mmm ... I'll try ... "
"Don't talk, suck! I'm close now. Fly me to the moon, baby, I want to come in your mouth. All the way. Right in your mouth! So stay with me, you hear? That's what a slave's mouth is for, isn't it? Yeah. Just like your fat ass is for beating ... "
The words drummed in Kim's ears. Fingers entwined in her hair, tightening little by little until this newest pain made her forget all those old ones. Every little twist and tug sent a crazy sensation streaking from her scalp down to the inflamed pit of her belly. It was going to happen again, cunt lurching to swallow her face, grinding all over her lips and tongue and mouth, just using her-and making it happen, of course, the writhing pleasure-pain that she prayed would never end. While that bossy voice went right on drumming: "Yeah, I like this, the whole damn setup. It's not every girl who gets a cuntlapper for a roommate. I'm going to hold on to you for a long time, lover-baby. Feed you plenty of fresh cunt-cream and keep you nice and healthy. Like now! Yeah. Hey, you know something? If we had that whip, I could probably reach your ass from up here. Give it that nice healthy color ... "
Chapter Eight
It was kind of mean, really, but that too was all part of the fun. Sherry had played cat-and-mouse with her roommate all week, warm one minute and cool the next. The kid was her toy, her plaything, a chubby little puppet that sprang into action whenever she cared to pull the strings. Their affair made an amusing counterpoint to the otherwise monotonous routine of her day-to-day existence at Miss Pringle's easy but somewhat dreary Academy for young ladies.
And that was about all it meant to her, of course, just a form of amusement. It might have been different if she hadn't fallen in love, but who could argue with fate? Visions of Angela occupied her waking hours all too often, voluptuous rainbow-bright visions that turned everything else drab gray by comparison. Angela of the golden hair and beautiful face, the big soft breasts and coral nipples, the flawless figure and fabulous legs. Angela of the smooth-skinned creamy body that was created for kisses. Angela the woman-whether in the demure garb of a housewife and stepmother or the black waist-cincher of a whore-the first and only woman in Sherry's young lesbian life! And with all that to look forward to each weekend, who could blame her for seeing poor Kim only as a little something to make the intervening week less tedious?
Not that the kid was so bad, actually, in spite of her dumpy appearance. The sincerity of her devotion, her eagerness to please, was a virtue in itself. And the fact that she was fat and unattractive didn't detract from her ability to give pleasure. The slave knew her place, especially as a lesbian slave; oh shit, the little lard-ass knew damn well that nobody was going to view her as a love-object. And she acted pretty sensible about it, too-give her credit for that!-showing no signs of even hoping for a turnabout, no sign of anything but willingness to carry out orders. Which made her the "perfect roomie," as far as Sherry was concerned.
True, there was one minor problem yet, an irritation if not exactly an imperfection. All that craving for punishment simply couldn't be disregarded. Vaguely she realized that something in the kid's past must have nurtured the weird desire-but its origin hardly seemed relevant to the immediate issue, and Sherry had no penchant for armchair analysis. Such things were better left in the dark anyway, at least in this instance. No, her only interest was the present and how to cope with it. She did owe her roommate a certain consideration in return for all those undeniably endearing services; it would be less than logical to expect perfect performance without some degree of reciprocal payment. Even more than the sex-romps, she appreciated the advantages and benefits of having a voluntary personal maid around the place-that was an indispensable luxury now! The room was always tidy and her wardrobe had never been in such fine condition, and she didn't even have to lift a finger. And wasn't it just heavenly to shed a pair of soiled panties and find them laundered and neatly folded in her lingerie drawer a day later? Oh shit, from that angle, she had never had it so good. But nobody gets something for nothing very long; wouldn't the service drop off if the servant felt neglected and grew restless? Damn right. And it appeared only too obvious now that Kim Huber was incapable of any lasting contentment unless that plump ass of hers got walloped regularly and often.
Which didn't leave much choice, Sherry figured. Her own "endearing" services were called for, a case of put up or shut up, no weaseling out. Actually, even though it wasn't her kick, the idea of committing a little butt-oriented mayhem didn't seem particularly repugnant to her. But it was a source of annoyance nonetheless, this business of giving in to the wistful whim of her own slave-demeaning, in a way, since it labeled her the vanquished rather than the victor in this one unseen but ruefully implicit, clash of wills. Their only such clash ...
Oh sure, she could lay low awhile and see what developed. But that might lead to a showdown-still no more than implied, probably!-and every successive step in that direction would eventually mean greater loss of face. Because the end was inevitable, of course, she would simply have to grin and bear it in order to assure herself of the broader victory. The kid was too precious to toss aside in a fit of pique. Unattractive, perhaps, but there was still an appealing meekness in her, a kind of soft pliancy that had already become pretty wonderful to have around. Who could give up such a generally well-behaved maidservant, a submissive little creature whose only avowed purpose was to make her mistress happy? Who would even dream of giving up such a mouth?
Mouths like that didn't grow on trees. Regardless of familiarity, Sherry seldom failed to get a charge out of the sight of those generous and moistly sensuous lips. Thick lips, always wet. Oh hell, there was something almost obscene about that mouth! Maybe it was even more important than maid-service, especially if the only messy thing in their room happened to be a slightly impatient pussy. Never mind the chambermaid, let the thick-lipped sex-slave take care of that pressing detail-she had the mouth for it and the experience to go with that mouth, apparently.
Hmm. The detail was pressing right now. Leaning back against the cushions lazily, Sherry let her nude bottom squirm around on the bedspread in a makeshift but still meticulous appraisal, allowing the final judgment to come from within. Uh-huh. A more than slightly impatient pussy. Not very messy, though, since she had taken a shower just a short while ago. But horny, sure enough-it must have crept up on her without warning. From thinking about that suck-happy mouth, no doubt. Or maybe it was a cumulative effect, maybe it came from the way she had teased the kid today-teasing herself in the bargain, more than likely. Uh-huh. She must have been ripe for a "roomie, come home" party; wasn't that what prompted her to grab a shower right after class? Nothing like being ready, too, although she sure hadn't been conscious of it at the time. Not with that problem on her mind.
Some problem. To spank or not to spank. (Well, it made a lot more sense than Hamlet!) Anyway, after acting cool to the kid all day, her-only problem now was to get chummy again without being snookered into any softhearted promises or obligations. Simple enough on the surface, but possibly a bit sticky underneath. Much as she hated to admit it, her initial judgment of Kim's intelligence had some revisions to go through. The kid was no dope, whether in the classroom or out; she made good grades on her exams and somehow managed to score points right here in their gay playtime hassles. She just looked dumb, that was all, and who expected a roly-poly butterball to be sharp and shrewd in the brains department? Even when she responded perfectly, just like a toy puppet, afterward there was often a little suspicion about who suggested which string to pull. Sherry was well aware of it by now, but her control of the situation still appeared somewhat dubious at times. Oh shit, if only she wasn't so gullible!
Not today, though. No con-games. No pity for a humble little masochist who could wheedle a chastisement out of a stone statue. That would come later-if and when a well-balanced whip got into the act-but at this point Sherry just didn't feel like bruising her hand again on that tender but amazingly tough backside. Like the kid herself, that big fat blob of an ass only looked dumb. But it damn sure wasn't going to get its way today! Even if this poor impatient pussy had to suffer ...
When the door opened, Sherry had a nice "casual" speech prepared but never got around to it. Kim jammed the chair under the knob and then fell on her knees. Right there, just inside the door. She bowed low, touching her forehead to the floor once- talk about humble!-and then crawled over on all fours.
"Please. Is it all right if I just stay close to you?"
Mildly stunned, Sherry propped her head on one elbow and peered down at the upturned face. The face of a child, a naughty child, the expression half-contrite and half-sulky. With those thick lips shining through incongruously to distort and tarnish the image of bewildered childhood innocence with a dab of debauchery, a touch of grown-up greed ...
"Please? I won't be any bother. Just so I'll know you don't hate me any more."
"Hate you? Where'd you ever get that silly notion?"
"You-you didn't talk to me all day. You wouldn't even look at me, not even in the corridor."
"Oh ... "
"You've been so strange lately. So distant. Sherry? Is there something wrong? Have I done anything to offend you? Did I break one of your rules without realizing it?"
"No. The answer is no to all three. And forget the rules, we do okay without them. I've just been preoccupied, that's all."
"Well, that means only one thing. I know you don't love me, but can't you even pretend a little?"
"Oh shit, baby, what's with the love bit? You and I have fun together; why make a big fuss over nothing?"
"Because it isn't just nothing. Not to me. Sherry, I love you. Don't you understand that? I love you."
"Sure, sure. Now stop all this nonsense and ... " Then, in shocked concern, "Hey, are you crying? Real tears?"
"You-you turned away from me in the corridor. I know why. It's because I'm so fat and ugly. Even my face. Ugly. I know. I've got a big ugly mouth and-"
"No! Don't say that. I like your mouth."
"But-but ... "
"You have a sexy mouth and I like it very much. Or maybe you want proof, huh?" Impulsively, quite affected by the puddly gray eyes, Sherry leaned over and kissed her. On the lips, the ever-moist thick lips, and as they quivered and yielded she repeated the reassuring words into the open warmth. "A very sexy mouth ... "
It wasn't enough, though. She never wanted to make the poor kid cry. Not like that. Sad tears, not happy tears. Now she owed an even greater debt to consideration. Guess what? Oh hell, was she just being conned again? No. Impossible. And if so, it was a damn good job; tears like that could melt a stone statue like a snowman in the sun. Only she had better end this embrace before they swallowed each other's tongues.
"There! Now get undressed, you've got a lesson coming. I'm going to beat your ass even if I bust a hand doing it. Next time maybe you won't whine so much. Hurry! I want you naked."
Kim hurried, the expression on her face passing through a series of changes. Until the sadness became almost a smile. Whirling, she scampered to the dresser and back, carrying a hairbrush now. There was a familiar glint in her eyes. And a hint of wickedness growing more and more pronounced in the curve of those sensual lips ...
"I-I'd feel just awful if you did hurt your hand. Wouldn't you rather use this on me?"
Settling herself into position, Sherry took the weapon and hefted it in a pretense of critical evaluation, already nodding her approval quite spontaneously. A thrill fired her flesh. The misty gray eyes looked frightened all of a sudden. The thick lips still glistened with lascivious lust, but now the pudgy bare buttocks had begun to tremble noticeably, an unmistakable indication of fear. Certainly there was nothing phony in this new behavior pattern, nothing coy or coquettish-just a scared kid!-and it made her intensely conscious of her own emotional reaction, also no longer phony. A sense of prideful power, of vast and unchallenged authority! Almost as though she accepted that "punishment" fantasy as her very own.
It wasn't completely true, of course, but she saw no reason to slip out of their mutually shared mood. Add everything up and it wouldn't be a performance at all. It already seemed real. Real enough to feel in her hammering heart and tingling loins and surging flow of desire-heated blood. The excitement possessed her, overwhelmed her-all the more so because it was so unexpected. And how solid this thing felt in her hand! Only a hairbrush? It felt like a bludgeon.
She lunged nimbly, tugging her plump prey off balance. The startled culprit tottered and swayed precariously and then toppled, falling limp across her lap. A half-throttled whimper of dread sounded. But it conveyed resignation rather than resistance- and she chuckled tartly, almost venomously, a noise that crackled in her own ear like a grim prologue to violence ...
Whack!
Only a hairbrush. Ah, but what a difference! The breath exploded from Sherry's lungs, triggered by the jolting joy that raced up the length of her arm. Once begun, she discarded any notion of testing the new weapon in some tentative fashion. Even the sobs and shrieks didn't slow her down; they seemed to blend beautifully with the sharp staccato rhythm of her assault. She only wished the hairbrush had been her own idea. But that too was cause for this savage fury; wasn't it a case of the puppet pulling its own strings again? A clever puppet, admittedly, but didn't such a smart-ass deserve a beating?
She let her wrath flow. The naked belly oozed wet upon her naked thighs, getting slippery with sweat that smelled of mingled perfume and sex. Every wallop set the rump-flesh jiggling, the big vulnerable mounds of flesh that blushed pink so easily and darkened to cinnamon-splotched rose with just a little effort. Only her labor seemed almost effortless, naturally-even the strain of total exhaustion would be subordinate to such unique pleasure. How wild, how absolutely fabulous that it should affect her like this! Did she really want to hurt those fleshy buttocks? It wasn't even sexy, in a way, it was an urge to conquer, to subjugate, to inflict pain purely for the sweet thrill of inflicting it. And yet there were hot rumbles in her own cunt as the brush banged away, too hot to ignore any more-and if that wasn't the sexiest feeling ...
Kim screamed. It was a bit scary for a moment, but then the scream subsided to a wail that sounded just fine. Very familiar. Reminiscent of happy tears! Sherry let her lie there until the crisis passed, whacking a little more color into the flesh as it went through a gradually diminishing chain of convulsions. And at last-gently but none too soon-her legs caved in under all that drooping tonnage.
The twitchy palpitations continued on the floor awhile, interfering with the kid's apparent need to speak. She gulped for breath and kept trying, but could only manage a few wheezy syllables, disjunct and unintelligible. Obviously desperate, she finally had to give up and settle for some other means of communication. With a tiny sob, she reached out and brought one bare foot to her lips.
It was a message that came through quite nicely, perhaps even better in silence than in speech. Better than a mumble, certainly! Gratitude was the gist, no doubt, but a gesture like that said more than just thank-you-or even "thanks a lot"-and Sherry found it rather charming. Except that she felt a trifle impatient by then, suffering a little desperation herself, and the kiss was one of reverence, not passion. Hardly the caress to placate a girl who had already satisfied her urge for conquest and was now contemplating only the simple but highly satisfactory joys of clitoral excitation! She arched her foot, wriggling the pointed toes peremptorily until the kissing mouth opened wide and sucked them in. A thick-lipped hollow, still panting for air but coming alive again. Oh, those lovely lips ...
"Hey! You've sure got a sexy mouth. Hot lips. But give me some more tongue, baby, that's even nicer. Lick my toes, huh? Ooh, that's so sweet; how my sweet little lesbian slave can suck! You're getting me horny with that mouth of yours, almost horny enough to break down and let you suck my cunt. Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you!"
"Feet ... cunt ... ass ... "
"Huh? Ass?"
"Mmm ... "
"Can't you talk yet? Kim!" She yanked her foot back.
"Umm ... well ... "
"You don't want my cunt?"
"Oh, but I do! I love it. And besides, I'm your slave, always ready to obey orders. I'll suck your cunt if you say so. I'll lick your feet. But sometimes I kind of wish ... uh ... "
"My ass?"
"Uh-huh. I've been noticing it lately. At night, even. When you roll over and sleep on your stomach, you know? I look at you from my bed. It's beautiful. And then in the bathroom, when I'm kneeling and drying you off after-"
"Hmph! Too bad I just took my shower. Just before you got here. Makes me feel guilty, almost." With a shrill giggle, daring, impetuous, Sherry stood up and swung around swiftly, blunting the nervous tremor of her knees against the convenient mattress edge. "There. Look! So you won't be deprived of your civil rights today."
"Civil rights. For a slave? But who am I to turn down a gift from my noble mistress? And such a beautiful gift! Darling, you've got the most beautiful ass in the world. Even right up close, so smooth, so perfect. Oh shit, now I'm the one who's getting horny-and I came while you were spanking me, too, you really made me cream. Now I'm hot all over again, blame it on your beautiful ass. Some civil rights! Hey, wait a minute-if you can spank mine, don't I even get to kiss yours? I mean if you're serious about civil rights ... "
"You-you want to?"
"Oooh, yesss! I've got to kiss it. Will you let me? I'll die if you say no. Is it all right if I kiss your beautiful ass?"
"Don't rush me. Civil rights was supposed to be funny." Then, breathless, "Yeah. Okay. Do it. Kiss my ass."
"Mmm ... "
"Wow!"
"You like that? I could lick your ass forever. Ummm, I just love it. Can you feel my tongue? Mmm ... "
"Kim. Slow down a minute. Stop!"
"Hmm? Oh. You-you don't like it?"
"I didn't say that. I just hadn't figured on going this far, not so fast anyway." Sherry swiveled from the waist, peering back over one shoulder. "Tell me something. Is this a big kick for you? In deep like that? You really want to make love to my ass?"
"Right now. more than anything else in the world. Won't you let me? Please." A pink tongue slid into sight, licking the air lewdly between smacking noises of the thick shiny lips. "Let me worship your beautiful ass. Please, please, please?"
"Okay, I'm convinced. I just hope you can do your worshiping on the bed, though. My knees are about to collapse."
"Anywhere. Anytime. Go ahead, get comfortable-and I won't be in such a rush now. I'll do it slowly. Oh, you look so pretty like that! So kissable ... "
The first humid touch eased Sherry's tension. A kiss. Another kiss. One upon each buttock. She sighed fitfully, torn between relief and disappointment, the same strange contradiction that had plagued her since the abruptly broken contact a moment ago. A sudden and lingering void after the dilating glut. Her own fault, too, cutting the kid off so brusquely. Just a case of nerves; after all, it did come as a shock. But was that only a few moments ago? Oh shit, it seemed like ages now. Too much void, too little glut.
No matter. The kisses were finding the way. Still alternating, still in that careful side-to-side movement-but narrowing down now, a delicious descending glide in between. Into the crack! Too bad there wasn't a mirror close by; why did so many nice things happen beyond the horizon? But even so, she could pretty much spot what was going on back there. That scrupulous tongue was making everything soft and slippery, a little advance preparation. Hmm. A little too much advance preparation?
"Hey, honey, don't take so long."
"Hmm?"
"You know. Come on. Give it to me."
"Umm ... all right ... like this ... mmm?"
"Oooh!"
"Doesn't that feel good? I love it. And so do you, oh yes, I can tell, your hot little asshole loves my tongue. And my hot tongue loves-"
"Do it, do it! Suck my ass, you dirty bitch! Get in there, get in deep, shoot that fuckin' tongue right up my asshole!"
"Mmm ... when you talk to me like that ... "
The voice faded inside her body, but Sherry had no trouble understanding it. As though she was blessed with a special sensory organ down there. But she chose to remain quiet herself for a while, cataloguing the squishy noises, the sexy sound effects. Everything had become soft and slippery, sure enough, and there was no glut now, just a nice tight fit. And that tongue wasn't exactly tiny either, she realized, her ass was really sensitive to its size, much more sensitive than any big hairy gash of a cunt might possibly be. She could actually feel it fucking her, fuck, fuck, fuck, that tongue fucking her ass, that hot slimy tongue fucking her right up the asshole, fuck, fuck, fuck, all slimy and slurpy and stuffing itself into the depths, not just hanging around half-in and half-out playing tickle-the-clit. A brand-new sensation, imagine! And it seemed important somehow that she try to remember what brought this minor miracle to pass, something to save for future reference; wouldn't that be more practical than cataloguing sound effects or comparing measurements?
"Hey! Kim? The hairbrush was a good idea, you know? A very successful experiment, you might say. Only I think we ought to go right on experimenting, don't you?"
Ummm ... "
"Yeah. I knew you'd agree. So listen, you freaky Hitch, I'm telling you here and now, you get busy pretty damn quick and find me a whip! The real thing. No more hairbrush for me, I want to whip that fat lesbian ass of yours. Or you can just forget about ever sucking mine again. So bring me a whip to work with, you hear? Even if you have to steal one."
After that, something absolutely wild happened and she couldn't figure out what caused it. Not that she had much time for figuring. Talk about miracles! The signs were already conclusive, there was a climax on the say, authentic and undeniable, a hot tongue-fuck of a climax, wasn't it simply incredible? Even the fact that her puppet had pulled most of the strings again made no difference now, not with something like this happening. A phenomenon! Hmm. Was there such a thing as an implosion? Anyway, everything seemed to be exploding inward -cunt, clit, asshole and all, everything!-exploding on the tip of that dynamite tongue; and she could only double up and ram her raised butt back hard into those nice thick sucking lips and wonder ...
Chapter Nine
Sinking back in the tub, Angela shut her eyes and waited for gentle lassitude to come upon her, hoping to lose herself in the lulling warmth. It helped a bit, soothing her flesh and easing her anxiety somewhat. But the unrest was still there, of course, the mental unrest that bothered her more than she cared to admit. How could so much have happened in so short a time?
A whole new world had opened up for her since the arrival of her stepdaughter. A world of femininity, a world of perfumed softness and languorous sighs, of lips and breasts and thighs and the wondrously sweet sensation of prolonged orgasm. A world of cunt ...
A world of nervous breakdowns?
Angela moaned and started a slow self-caress, visualizing the child against the dark backdrop of her sealed eyelids. So young, so terribly young! That boyishly slim figure only hinted at budding womanhood. Its coltish grace bespoke a kind of aesthetic loveliness rather than voluptuous sex. Downstairs, only a little while ago, Sherry had looked like an adolescent with one foot practicing the latest dance step and the other still playing hopscotch. The type of kid who swooned over TV soap opera during the day and slept with a stuffed panda bear at night.
Oh sure, the typical junior miss! Angela knew better. She was now acquainted - painfully, deliriously - with the wealth of wanton sensuality lurking beneath that shell of youthful innocence. And her grasp of the illusive image was a stimulus like no other. It made her feel wanton and sensual herself. Oddly enough, despite the sheer perversity of such a thought, it made her feel like a woman. More woman than she had allowed into her husband's bed lately. More woman than she had known existed inside her own body, for that matter. Although she sure knew what smoldered there right now, ah yes, it was breaking through the surface to turn her tingling nipples stiff. With a little assist from her fingers, those wanton and sensual fingertips; yes indeed, even this she owed to her precocious young lesbian lover.
Lesbian. Lover! The hot-lipped caresses. The panting ecstasies. The madness, the cunt madness, even now she wasn't quite sure how it had all come about. Naughty tales of daisy-chains in the dormitory? Oh hell, that was just a prelude. Somehow, without really recognizing it, they had just naturally gravitated toward each other. Certainly there had been no thought of lasting romance or undying love or any such crap as that. It had just happened - and afterward, well, who could stop a thing like that from snowballing?
Just for fun, no doubt, that was the how and why of it. Strictly for laughs - and maybe a dash of affection. Like with dear old Denise on those lonely nights after the show-biz grind. Except that dear old Denise wasn't a lesbian. And dear little Sherry was. Lesbian from the start, an accomplished lesbian lover ...
Incited by provocative memories, Angela's body rippled in the tub and became suddenly demanding. Her hands responded to the call instinctively, darting off on their errand without so much as a by-your-leave. Down between her thighs. Where they were needed most! Kind of silly, perhaps - schoolgirl silly - but the sensation did have a certain irresistible charm. Especially under the water. It seemed so remote, so far away, almost a disembodied thrill - an island of peculiar sensitivity in all that engulfing liquid heat.
But the surge of renewed desire was only too revealing. This was real, this affair, this romance, this thing, entirely too real for comfort. Not like with Denise. Not for fun, not just a kick any more: so goddam real it hurt! Angela wondered why it didn't make her feel like some horrid serpentine creature threshing around in the fetid swamp-muck of her own conscience. Loathsome ...
Oh shit, she didn't even feel guilty!
Weird, wasn't it? As often as she had deliberately dabbled in sin to get ahead in the world, her mind had never lost its inherent ability to differentiate between right and wrong. And while this hadn't exactly affected the tempo of her worldly progress, it was always with a twinge of remorse that she had chosen money over morality. Such an expedient choice might even be downright immoral, but at least she remained queasily aware of her dereliction. And yet in this instance there was scarcely a qualm-conducive to serenity, perhaps, but still a rather rueful source of puzzlement. After all, she had become intimate with the youngster, sexually intimate, a dark misdeed that nothing could excuse. The lesbian act itself was bad enough, but doing it in these strange circumstances could only be infinitely worse. Under her husband's unsuspecting nose, practically. And with her husband's own daughter? Gruesome! A transgression to end all transgression. In a lifetime of culpability, this capped the climax. And yet, mercifully if unaccountably, she suffered no more than the mildest of misgivings on that score.
Why?
Was it because there was no money involved? No step upward on the luxury ladder? No personal gain? Was that the reason for this guilt-free attitude?
Maybe. Even quite probably. It did help to account for the unaccountable, anyway. And by the same token, paradoxically, it also accounted for her ever-increasing anxiety. Although that, of course, required only the most rudimentary diagnosis, a simple recognition of the conflict between pleasure and profit. Wasn't it stupid of her to take such a risk? Stupid indeed to collaborate so recklessly in this mad capice, braving danger purely for the sake of a little erotic enjoyment. Just let Felix once get wind of it and she might easily forfeit the whole works. And then what?
Then nothing. Nada. One big fat zero. With a hole in the bottom. Not even a pot to pee in, much less a window to throw it out. Zero with a hole in the bottom, an ominous but obviously precise portrayal of Mrs. Angela Bartholomew's busted ass after the disclosure and subsequent divorce. Oh hell, think of the investment wasted, the time, the effort, the expended energy, the self-discipline; think of the blood, sweat and tears! And the often sickening self-sacrifice of the little backstage bride, too, a sweet young wife utterly unnerved by the aphrodisiac agony of role-playing just to rejuvenate her dried-up old whoremaster of a husband. A determined little doll-wife now, though, sweet no longer-a slut, a succubus, even a phony virginal vampire when the occasion arose. But always a sexy bitch, hot and horny, a bitch in heat, hopeful, dutiful, faithful, doggedly licking the hand of her lord and master. Whoremaster? Well, no, not any more, really, the poor old boy had become too concerned over his health lately, too slow and sedentary to dramatize in such swashbuckling semantics. At this point, in fact, considering their recent performance record, his daughter might even have a better right to the title. Provided she could find a steady whore to master .
Hmm. Given half a chance, most likely, that bossy kid wouldn't have any trouble taking over the harlotry of an entire whorehouse. With a few neighborhood streetwalkers and lamp-post leaners for good measure, no doubt, just to stir up competition. Hadn't she already stirred some up right here at home? And not just the cloak-and-dagger monkey-shines, either, the daring little sneaky gestures and games that were bound to catch her father's eye some day-oh no, now she was dropping hints about her present roommate, Kim something-or-other, a naughty brat who apparently knew all the old Swiss school antics and a few new ones besides. An avowed "slave girl" of sorts, whatever that meant. Someone to arouse a loving stepmother's curiosity, surely, if not actual jealousy. And all quite calculated, like as not; such a mischief-maker, that elfin stepchild of hers, that giggly adolescent with the magnetic sex-aura of an old-time silent screen coquette; what a headstrong little hussy!
Headstrong but honey-sweet too at times, Angela was forced to admit, and even her own often prefabricated frame of mind had some bearing on the mood changes. Like the "whore" in the waist-cincher. No one to blame but herself! Although she couldn't see a repetition of that scene occurring again, not after succumbing to the lure of her own cunningly created atmosphere and losing all contact with reality. A novel and not altogether regrettable development, true, but more of the same might be perilous. Or unwise, at least. The little minx had such a domineering personality even aside from her prodigious and powerful sex-drive; overheated, she could become a veritable tyrant-dainty and delectable but a tyrant nonetheless, hardly the companion for a dreamy afternoon siesta afloat on a scented candyfloss cloud. And wasn't that the essence of lesbian love, all perfume and pink clouds?
The thought had a lovely lilt, but Angela was somewhat skeptical of its sincerity. Too much honey-sweet and not enough headstrong hussy! And who wanted to make love-lesbian or otherwise-on sticky cotton candy? Besides, any woman with an ounce of sense and half that much experience would recognize the simplistic fallacy of perfume and pink clouds as criteria; what ever happened to lust? Oh hell, she could even remember when the sweetest honey flowed in some of those hot and headstrong moments! Let's face it, you sexy blonde bitch, the essence of lesbian love is a well-sucked cunt ...
Half the requisite equipment was lacking, naturally, but in her aroused fervor Angela struck a compromise and compensated just a wee bit. Necessity gave birth to invention, delivering a fetus that seemed to be all fingers. The bathwater had cooled slightly, but she disregarded such minor inconveniences and settled down to jerking herself off. Which reminded her of another fallacy, of course, since there was nothing very jerky about it, only soft fingertips teasing soft lips, all soft and slow and slithery. Only men jerked off; that was their terminology-and welcome to it. Women did something else, no jerking, no pulling, no stretching, something much more refined. Frig yourself, baby, frig that horny-hot cunt. Oh no, that wasn't right either! Later maybe, not now. Not yet. No frigging, just the soft lips all aquiver and pursing a little, cunt-lips puckering up like a kissing mouth, kiss-kiss-kiss? Kissing those nice soft fingertips and parting to suck them in-and there it was, the darling sleepyhead, just waiting for a tiny tickle underneath to unzip its nightie-hood, such a tiny little tickle-tickle-tickle but just right, as good as a tongue maybe-well, almost!-a lot better than jerking or frigging, anyhow. Or maybe even fucking ...
"Angela?"
Better than fucking. Yummy ...
"You in the bathroom? Angela! Can't you hear me?
That ended the fun. Her master's voice. Ugh. She yanked her hand away, flushing and muttering a small oath-part embarrassment, part exasperation. With more than just a touch of frustration too, unfortunately. Another few finger-dabs might have carried her to a happy finish right then and there, an underwater orgasm, the perfect panacea. Too late. And she still had to remain mute for fear that her answer would sound quavery. While the hot mess between her thighs only seemed to grow hotter and messier, developing the temperature and texture of a poached egg.
Then, clearing her throat, "In the tub, dear. Just getting out."
"Fine. Put some perfume on, huh? I'm staying home tonight."
"Oh? But of course. Uh. shall I hurry?"
"No need. Take your time. I showered a while ago, but I've still got a couple of business phone calls to make. Hey, how about a little nightcap? Would you like some brandy?"
"Love it. Go ahead, dear. I'll be ready and waiting."
The cheery tone was somewhat spurious, but Angela knew on which side her bread was buttered. She clambered out of the tub and toweled herself dry, already opening her mind to whatever whimsical notion might pop in, already reconciled to the task of entertaining her man this night. A crisis but hardly a catastrophe. Unexpected, though, since he had mentioned something about a late-hour conference with his accountant. Sherry would be upset, no doubt, but that couldn't be helped; sooner or later. she would simply have to learn that a married woman's wifely duties and obligations came first.
Wifely duties, oh sure. Angela managed a wan grin, dousing her body with gardenia and preparing for a major makeup job. Afterward she would use the perfume again, heavily reinforcing the soaked-in fragrance, a necessary precaution following her comparatively unscented bath. Some wifely duty! Hmm. In a certain sense, it was almost a blessing that Felix had changed his plans, what with the lesbian thing still unsettled in her mind. Now she could mull it over and try to reach a decision without risking an immediate showdown with the kid. Especially if she decided to play safe and put a final lid on their clandestine honeypot; what a howl that would bring! She would need every available minute to solidify her position and seal up all the chinks and crevices in her armor against so formidable an adversary.
Oh well, time to worry about that tomorrow. Hopefully! And meanwhile she had a job to do right here, one that would probably require conscious effort every step of the way with her head in such a turmoil. Yes indeed, keeping her husband happy was more important than ever now. Regardless of the outcome, it would still pay her to be extra sweet to him and thus avert any possible suspicion that she might have even dabbled in such unsavory and unspeakable perversions behind his hack. As long as the old "hot cunt" sizzle was there to warm his bed and bones, masculine pride alone would be reason enough to make any man scoff at the idea of lesbian hanky-panky in the house. So it behooved this young wife to shake her ass and put on a production at least up to her usual standard.
That included the costume, naturally. The overdone makeup and the lavishly applied perfume. The satin lounging pajamas that her body filled out far more spectacularly than any designer or manufacturer could have intended. The high heels that did so much for her ankles and calves. And last but by no means least, the thick coating of lip-rouge-lurking in ambush, a surefire show-stopper!-so neatly and yet gaudily painted upon the nipples of her breasts.
In the bedroom she sat down on a chair to await her husband's return, leaning back in a vaguely indolent pose, an impression of languor contradicted by a hint of latent flame. The pajamas had a burnt-orange hue, tangerine perhaps, a bit bizarre but quite compatible with her blonde hair and brown eyes and creamy complexion. The tangerine lipstick helped, too-visible only in its proper place now, but already setting her concealed nipples a tingle with impatience, just dying to come out of hiding. Bizarre also, of course, the shade itself, actually lightening her own natural red-"coppery red," according to a recent expert opinion, "the color of ocean coral in the sunlight"-how the kid would have hated this phony orange stuff!
Angela scowled, instantly aware of her divergent train of thought, warped and unwholesome and simply deplorable in this sexy but almost sanctified atmosphere. Sanctified by the bonds of marriage. Between husband and wife nothing was phony, not even tangerine-tinted tits, and no snotty little lesbian had a right to barge in and cause a controversy. There! No more problems with outsiders. Now if only Felix would hurry up with his phone calls and brandy; she was tired of holding this darn pose. But it did seem to catch the lamplight nicely, turning the sleek satin fabric even shinier and pointing up certain suggestive evidence of how naked she was underneath. And it really wasn't so uncomfortable anyway, sitting like this with her legs crossed lazily and one shoe dangling loose from her toes-even there, the redolent bouquet of gardenia!-all insinuating a kind of casual elegance that might go slumming at any moment ...
"Ah. You're so lovely tonight, my dear."
That made it all worthwhile. The compliment was sincere, too, she could see it in his eyes, a glow of admiration, of desire, perhaps even love. They were a good match together. Too good to jeopardize, too good to be bartered for some orgiastic flight of fancy, too good to be threatened by a giddy teenage girl and a bedazzled self-indulgent blonde broad who should have known better.
"Darling. So sweet of you to say so. And you're very handsome yourself tonight. I love you in that lounging robe. Just the thing to wear while pouring brandy, hmm?"
"Only if it's the best brandy. And this is. Courtesy of Napoleon Bonaparte, I've been told." He poured the cognac and sat on the edge of the bed as they went through the ritual of warming it in their cupped hands. "See if you don't agree."
"Oh come now, a connoisseur I'm not." She buried her nose in the goblet, sniffing first and then taking a tiny sip. "Mmm, nice. But to me what's even nicer is having you home like this. You've been putting in such long hours lately."
"I know. And it will be like that for a while yet. Weekends, too, so I'm glad to see you getting along so well with Sherry. You can keep each other company. Hmm, by the way, there's also a possibility that I'll be going to California shortly. A business trip. But if you come along we might make a little vacation out of it. That will mean leaving the kid in school, of course-one weekend, perhaps too, but I'm sure she'll survive. Unless you'd rather skip the trip and stay home yourself. I'll be in conference a lot arid it might get pretty full for you, dear, so if you'd rather not come, well, I'll understand."
Sipping her drink, Angela masked the taut lines of her expression with the crystal goblet, all but overwhelmed by the abrupt change of subject. Or the abrupt leap back into the same subject, rather, even though Felix couldn't have known that. Anyway, tomorrow's decision wouldn't keep; she was stuck with it now. Now! And doing it in her husband's presence like this would make the verdict final and irrevocable, truly a death-blow ...
Or a kiss of resuscitation?
"California. Mmm, sounds like fun. But the business, darling, is it the thing you've been so worried about lately?"
"Worried? I didn't think you had noticed."
"I'm your wife. Of course I've noticed. You've re-, ally been jumpy these past few weeks."
"You're right, I suppose. It's a big project and I'm in it up to my neck. But the California trip should straighten things out for me. That's the beginning of the end; from then on it'll be gravy-and I'm talking in terms of millions now. The figures are astronomical, enough to put me right up there with the big boys, how about that? And then I'll be my old cheerful self again."
"Glad to hear it. Don't worry, I just know your business project will succeed. Although you've always been one of the big boys, as far as I'm concerned. Biggest in the world. Too big to let any harm come to, so I'll be right there with you in California, taking care of my man like a good little wife. Your health is important to me, aside from business or money or anything like that. Heart trouble is bad enough. I'd sure hate to see you get an ulcer; what kind of sex-life could we have?" Then, giggling coyly, "Oh dear, I might even have to give up perfume for fear of getting you excited. Wouldn't that be just awful? All this sexy gardenia ... "
He sniffed, grinning, and then she saw the grin fade swiftly, replaced by a familiar look of rapture. Silence fell. Hot, thick, expectant silence that almost crackled with excitement. Reacting to his fixed gaze, she took a sip of brandy and then giggled again and licked the rim of the goblet with her tongue. She drained it dry in a series of bold gulps, hardly the approved technique for imbibing fine cognac, but at that point who cared? The tart-sweet liquid felt cool in her mouth and warm gliding down her throat. It was reaching her now, stirring her flesh, setting her brain afire. She licked the glass again and then put it aside.
"Angela ... "
Spurred by a sudden impulse, she sprang from her chair to the middle of the floor, balancing on tiptoe momentarily and then going into a spin, an endless pirouette. The satin garments clung to her hips and breasts like inanimate lovers, soothing, caressing, kissing her body as she whirled gracefully. Overcome by her own abandon, she performed a few intricate dance steps for his delighted eyes and at last crumpled to her knees in front of him. The lounging robe was no great obstacle; a minute later the moist softness of her tongue began a prolonged slide over the very tip of his penis. The teasing gesture produced immediate results, and she guided the stiffening organ with feathery fingers as her mouth opened wide to capture the now-bulbous head inside the tightening loop of her lips.
She swelled with burgeoning ecstasy as his firm hands kneaded her shoulders. Now even the film of satin was unbearable and she undid the buttons of the pajama top, still concentrating mainly upon her self-assigned, mission. In his rather dubious state of health, it seemed the safest way to make him happy. He didn't even have to move. Her busy lips could do it all without running the risk of one of those bad spells that he sometimes got from overexertion.
But she reckoned without him. Or without herself, rather, since he merely happened to be in a better position to catch the first glimpse of what she had somehow forgotten. The lipsticked nipples. And after that, well, it didn't take much womanly intuition to figure out what he really wanted. She moved up as he fell back upon the bed, scrambling up over him to dangle the gaily decorated circles within range of his mouth. Spiritedly she muffled his sob of passion in her bosom, rubbing it into his face and reveling in the wet rasp of his tongue upon her aroused nipples. He spoke volumes-soundlessly. And could only gasp as she swayed from side to side, playing no favorites, alternating each desire-crested breast, one after the other. Until the decoration lost some of its flavor and much of its color and all of its novelty, and it was time to slip away. Down his neck and across his chest, grazing his skin lightly, delicately, keeping him in contact with the flesh that he found so exciting. And then at last she clasped him in the intimacy they both sought, the ultimate intimacy, but not lightly or delicately now, oh no, she was holding him, molding him, enfolding the intense masculinity of him with the yielding and yet tenacious trap of her breasts.
"Angela ... ah ... "
"You like?"
"Mmm ... so much ... "
The gardenia perfume was like a cloud; the air had become almost tangible, tactile, developing a texture of its own-a fog that touched everything with fingers of scented sex. It prodded her, inspired her, and she endeavored to dole out his pleasure with the utmost of patience and an infinite attention to detail. To make him understand the slow joys and lingering delights that could come only from the thrill of a terminal ecstasy stretched beyond the limits of endurance. He deserved it, he deserved the best, and she still felt guilty about that other thing. His own daughter ...
Oh well, at least the decision was no longer in doubt. And how simple he had made it for her! With the trip to California as a positive cut-off date, she could let the kid down nice and easy, without any sudden hassle. Tomorrow, for instance, if the opportunity arose, she could implant the seed and maybe even have a little fun at the same time. A little cunt-fun!
Cunt-fun?
A shudder of self-loathing wracked Angela's body. I'm a bitch, she thought, a wicked bitch to be doing this and to be thinking of that ...
Chapter Ten
Hah! So that was it, the reason for this sudden change of heart. Ridiculous. Sherry struggled to remain calm, torn between petulance and pity. What a time for her stepmother to be feeling pangs of remorse! Such a worldly woman acting like a child, practically, turning their love into an off-again-on-again schoolgirl-type game; couldn't she see the irrationality of such conduct? Worse yet, did it have to happen now, their first chance in ages to be alone together?
Ah, but how lovely she looked sitting there at the dressing table, her slender waistline accentuated by the contoured contrast of flaring hips and flanks. Too tempting to pass up. Those divinely rounded breasts rising and falling with each breath, quivering inside the thin silk of her negligee; how could a simple configuration of flesh possess such boundless appeal? Despite her wry view of the situation, Sherry could hardly keep from touching all that seductive beauty. From putting her arm around that curved waist. From seizing that overripe pouty red mouth with her own and wallowing in its sweet succulence ...
"Angela, listen." She moved up close, angled like a poised bird of prey, coming to a halt with her legs braced against the edge of the upholstered bench. "And please stop puttering around with that stupid cold cream, will you?"
"All right. I'm listening." Still unopened, the jar was pushed aside as the fidgety fingers simmered down.
"Okay." Sherry stroked the soft golden hair, inhaling happily as its stirred-up scent rose to her nostrils. "You mustn't reproach yourself for what happened between us. It was no one's fault, really, not even mine-unless you can blame the nature I was born with. In any case, it just doesn't make sense for you to feel guilty."
"I-I can't help it, I do feel guilty." The slim shoulders began to shake alarmingly. "Don't you understand? I blame myself ... " She broke off, overcome by emotion.
"Easy, darling. Take it easy." Offering her own brand of consolation, Sherry was massaging the delicate neck now, aware of the need for caution but aroused by her contact with the velvety skin. "Just think a minute. Who did we hurt? You? Me? My father? Anybody? Of course not. Nobody. Nobody at all. No victim, no crime, no blame, no guilt-isn't that a pretty fair analysis?"
"Well ... "
"Darling?"
I-I suppose so. But you make it sound so frivolous. Like a little nothing, almost. If only I could be sure you're right ... "
"I'm right. You know I'm right. I just wish you wouldn't call it frivolous, though, at least not while we're getting lovey-dovey like this. Takes the fun out of it."
"Uh-huh. Some fun."
With a coy giggle, sniffing success and hopeful of the knockout nudge, Sherry performed a small contortion and leaned over to place a subtly convincing kiss on the rosebud lips. The reflected movement caught her eye provocatively-truly a picture worth a thousand words!-more persuasive than the real thing, perhaps. Delighted, she eased off on the pressure enough to permit herself a conspiratorial murmur, a slyly urgent Cry. "Oooh, look! Aren't we beautiful together? Look there, look -in the mirror, see how beautiful you are? Touch my tongue with yours, just the tip, okay? Like this. Come on! Mmmm. I love your tongue, darling, it's so wet and warm. And pink-see how pink it looks in the glass? So pink and pretty ... "
"Yours, too."
"Mine? You really think so? Oh, you're just saying that to be nice. Yours is much prettier. But mine is longer, I'll bet-see?-longer and stronger. And talented, too, even if I have to say so myself. In case you've forgotten. Anytime, you blushing doll, any old time at all! Just in case. Oh shit, every cunt gets horny and needs a little help once in a while, huh? Believe me. lover, I've got just the tongue for you."
Quite without warning, Angela's seated body rocked and slumped precariously, limp and despondent as a Raggedy Ann dying of split seams. "I'm sorry. You don't know how I've worried ... how much I've tortured myself ... " Head lolling, her boneless frame sagged lower and was suddenly wracked by a spasm of dry sobs.
"Hush, dear. Nothing to get so upset about." Sherry held the thick blonde mane in her grasp, getting over the shock and cradling the distraught woman to her breasts. After a while she ventured a fresh grip and tugged upward gently, a hand under each arm now. "Come on. Come lie down and I'll make you feel better."
"But-but-"
"No more talk. Just come. You'll see. Sherry knows what's good for you." It was like dealing with a child. "Up you go!"
An obedient child, thank heaven. The maneuver called for patience and perseverance, but at last they plodded the distance to the bed safely, shedding garments on the way. Not that there was much to shed, just a short robe and a sheer negligee, hardly a problem even in these rather difficult circumstances. Angela did put up a token protest of sorts, somewhat belated and a bit incoherent-as though her conscience was still in conflict back at the dressing table-but Sherry simply ignored it, wary of further speech after that untimely outburst. A puzzling reaction, that, enough to make her shy away from lewd language and such for the present. Anyway, her tongue was rigged for silence now, stealthy as a creeping shadow in its hunt for the forbidden quarry, the precious cunt-fowl with the golden plumage. An action louder and lewder than words ...
Already busy, the caress of her fingertips broadened its scope inch by inch, turning the raucous sobs into demurely indignant whimpers, familiar music to any sex-attuned schoolgirl. How often had she heard that song before! In the Paris apartment, too often to count-yes, even on that last awful day, the silly English kid, what's-her-name, Cynthia!- wasn't this the same phony sound?
Hmm. Funny. She hadn't thought about that for a long time-the last day, the phone call, the accident. Death. For a while there it had actually haunted her, too. And now. she could look back and remember and not feel any pain. Maybe death wasn't so bad after all. The dead didn't seem to mind. And the living went right on living. She had lost a mother and gained a stepmother-an uneven swap maybe, but not without certain compensations. Uh-huh. Too bad she had to get stuck with a father, the old fart! But what the hell, pompous ass Felix was part of the package, a necessary evil-and besides, wasn't it smart to stick close to all that money?
Angela was still making those noises. Kind of cute, really, just like one of the little girls, sexy but scared shitless. Only she wasn't, of course-this blonde creampuff was a married woman with a very rich husband. My father's wife. Sure, using her influence to stay out of Switzerland had its points, but wasn't there more here than met the eye? Opportunity, for instance, an opportunity to weld this new relationship into something unbreakable. Some day she might have need of Angela Bartholomew and her share of the wealth; why not lay the groundwork now? Bind this weak creature closer yet, conquer her with caresses beyond the imagination, bind her close enough so that such pleasure might become an ever-expanding necessity, indispensable, a form of bondage all by itself ...
"Sherry ... we shouldn't ... "
"Shhh, darling."
"But it's wrong. I wish you-"
"Hush. I'm going to make you happy."
"Happy ... "
"Happier than you've ever been."
"Happier?"
"Hush. You'll see. I'll show you."
"Oh. Oooh! Show me, show me! Please ... "
The capitulation was complete and unconditional, apparently, an extra"boost to Sherry's morale, restoring her self-confidence to the utmost. It took so little to make this body twitch and tremble now, so little to elicit the desired responses; of yes, everything was going to be fine, just fine. She nuzzled into the smooth-skinned throat, toying with the big womanly breasts that seemed to heave and swell voluptuously with every touch. Exhilarated, she played teasing and tantalizing finger-games, molding the soft flesh into a thousand newly erotic shapes and forms, each more lascivious than the last. And each bringing another involuntary ripple of response, a tonic for any aggressive lover's ego. Especially after all that doubt and disapproval awhile ago, that dumb but clearly definite rejection-yes indeed, wasn't it grand to be welcomed back so exuberantly? Maybe she could afford to relax just a bit now. catering to her own sensuous whims and wishes, a well-earned respite in lieu of reward; did anyone deserve it more richly?
Still caressing, she lifted her head to survey the prize under her hands. What a pair of tits! Oh shit, what wouldn't she give to have a figure like that! Lying there naked and swollen with sex, enravished Angela looked simply ravishing, all creamy and golden and fantastically gorgeous. Truly a work of art. And those legs, those delectably split legs; was there ever such symmetry, such perfection? It was enough to make a girl envious. Enough to make this girl think twice, luckily, shunting aside any foolish ideas of respite and reward. A body like that deserved something, too, something more than a selfish lesbian seducer's whims arid wishes.
And more than an ugly old husband, however rich!
Sherry came to her senses. Scarcely a moment ago she might have followed some impulse blindly, perhaps ducking down between those soft gaping-hot thighs purely for her own enjoyment, yielding to the temptation of that gold-fringed cunt in a fit of sweet-self-indulgence. Not now, though. Yield once and the; opportunity would be lost! The already acknowledged opportunity to begin spinning her web of entrapment and bondage; why put it off another instant?
Seeking total composure, she tried to see it as a cool and neatly calculated maneuver instead of the bizarre thing it actually was. Soon she would plunge her lips into all this seductive perfumed redolence, but only with pattern and purpose. Tempting as it. might be, the wistfully flaunted pussy could wait. Let it seethe with the impatience of ardor first. And let its seething need remain unassuaged until the end, negotiable only after all else had been coaxed and cajoled to the point of climactic surrender. A long-drawn-out prologue, then, turning joy deferred into joy distilled, the kind of buildup and blast that might eventually become an entity in itself, the big one. the all-consuming orgasm. So calm down, Angela darling, it'll do you no darn good to wave that horny honeypot under my nose ...
With that one significant exception, Sherry gave vent to her own natural aptitude, an almost intuitive flair for plumbing the intricacies of the female body. And yet practical experience and technique were fundamental, too, and she put every ounce of her acquired proficiency into the endeavor. Once again the cream-and-coral breasts throbbed madly and threatened to burst with inner turbulence, the nipples swiftly budding under the enticement of her fingertips. Her mouth suckled and nurtured each bud to a blossom while the slow sweep of her palm made the daintily rounded belly palpitate, the frantically questing thighs clench and unclench. She kept it up for a long time, lips and fingers in an exploit of unerring expertise, goading all that sensitive woman-flesh deliberately, proudly, toward its pinnacle of prurient lust. Until the signs and symptoms launched their repetitious bid for prominence -the quickened breath, the gasping sighs, the flurried moans and frenetic panting; all the luridly explicit clamor of a compulsion about to crack its chains!-and she couldn't help but recognize that at last the churning honeypot had achieved a certain priority. The movement of truth was nigh. The time had come to soul-kiss that pink-lipped hot clitty-cunt into ecstasy.
Or had it?
Life among Miss Pringle's ladylike flock wasn't exactly edifying, of course, but that was all the more reason why only the giddiest of geese would forget what little she did learn. And it scarcely mattered that the enlightenment hadn't occurred in a classroom. Or that the new concept had been assimilated through instinct rather than instruction. Such factors and facets were immaterial anyway; wasn't the ability to utilize one's knowledge the best gauge of intelligence? Never mind the details, then-on with the show! Except for a short pause to give credit where credit was due. Oh yes, for a place as barren of nymphs and night-owls as the dishwater-dull Academy, there was a veritable grab-bag of advantages in getting saddled with someone like Kim Huber for a roommate. Who else would know of caresses to chill the soul and stagger the imagination?
"Sherry? What-why are you-"
"Let me. You'll love it."
"But-but I don't understand ... "
Angela turned limp as the pressure increased. With only a little more guidance after that, her body twisted into a sinuous spiral, quite pliant now, wriggling all the way over. Her voice oozed up. somewhere between a snort and a giggle, fading and then abruptly muffled-its echo hanging overhead like a question mark-as her face sought shelter in the fluffy pillow.
Bending low, Sherry brushed her lips tentatively against each creamy buttock. Excitement clutched her insides like a giant claw, squeezing and lacerating the secret flesh gleefully, a sensation that clouded her mind in passing but then prodded it right back to a lucidity that seemed almost grim after the ephemeral mist. I'm kissing her ass! My stepmother's ass, imagine!
It was the novelty, no doubt-the first time for anything always felt pretty weird. But aside from that, she could only reaffirm a kind of wondrous delight in every ensuing kiss, each inroad upon intimacy intoxicating her senses anew with velvety textures and flowery fragrances. As though a phalanx of celestial cherubs scurried on ahead to bestrew her path with rose petals.
Even in this position of repose, the dimpled domes were amazingly firm for such a well-padded woman. But soft, too, soft and scented and piquantly spiced to the taste, a vaguely exotic tart-sweet tang outside the latitude of Sherry's past experience. Unfamiliar to her tongue, certainly, and that in itself added charm to this voyage of exploration and discovery. Still, such personal pleasures amounted only to procrastination, really, a divergence from her planned objective. Time now to end the search and stake her claim. In the depths of the saffron-colored crease ...
"Oooh!"
"Hmm? Like it?"
"I-I'm not sure. Nobody ever did that-"
"Relax."
"Uh-huh. Oh, don't stop! Please?"
"Mmm ... "
The fresh excitement was infectious and Sherry struck with resurging vigor, wedging her face between the engulfing cheeks to establish a better power-base. for the thrust of her elongated tongue. She was in now, deep into the dark mystery, struggling to remain alert enough to fulfill ...
I'm licking it, licking her ass, tonguing her asshole, oh shit, I'm fucking that hot little hole with my tongue!
That helped, somehow, bouncing the nasty words around inside her skull and scraping out every last hidden shred of aversion to the dirt and degradation of this act. Getting the shock over with. Not that it was either dirty or degrading, actually, no more so than a hot cunt sucked to a creaming climax, and who but a prude would dare call that anything less than beautiful?
Anyway, she felt more at ease now and was glad to note the slowly but surely awakening response to her pinpointed caress, taking special pride in the incessant sound of those half-smothered throaty moans. She began varying her own performance a bit-all variations on this one theme, naturally-using her tongue in a more versatile manner, making the cute little puckered-up rosebud its toy, its plaything, its eager dependent. Oh, that tiny asshole, such a furor of entreaty at the slightest hint of a vacancy! And how it bloomed like a bouquet of welcome when the tip of her tongue went tap-tap-tap!
The moaning was still very much in evidence, but now a movement had arisen to synchronize itself to the noisy rhythm. Angela's hips were going up and down, her head rolling back and forth on the pillow. The hot ass had developed a thrusting motion that Sherry could feel meeting her buried face more than halfway, pumping insistently. They were on the brink of something big. She helped it along with an impetuous demonstration of her wisdom in such matters, curving one hand below and up into the silky underbelly, luxuriating in the sensation of her fingers slithering around in all that musky cunt-flesh between those sex-drenched thighs. As the climax came one ...
It was a delicious moment for her. Purposely and with no qualms whatsoever, she had reduced this glorious body to submission and lifted it to the summit of desire. And now-because she had willed it so-this body couldn't do without her attention. It was already bucking and rearing up off the bed, almost but not quite dislodging her tongue and hand. While from somewhere in the distance, she heard one of those low moans again, only this time it gained in pitch and intensity to become a shrill scream. A delicious moment for Angela, too?
Chapter Eleven
It wasn't anyone's fault exactly, but poor Kim found herself bearing the burden nonetheless. With a nice little holiday coming up so soon-two extra days because of a teacher's convention-she simply hadn't bothered going home this past weekend. Not that she did go very often, actually, nor was it even customary among the Academy girls, considering the long distance and dubious travel connections for most of them. But somehow, just this once, her ostensibly logical decision had backfired. As though logic lost its meaning when emotion ruled the roost ...
And all because of a whip! Or the absence of same, rather, since her unpredictable roommate had apparently returned to school with great expectations of finding one ready and waiting. Only to be disappointed, of course, a displeasure that in turn led to Kim's downfall. Now she was strictly a lackey and no longer a lover. She fetched and carried and kept the place clean, rinsing soiled stockings and lingerie as usual, but reaping none of the usual benefits. A slave without sex privileges; what fun was that?
Worse yet, there was something else on Sherry's mind, something that had to do with her family's scheduled trip to California. She had mentioned it only vaguely, but there wasn't much doubt about its being another source of aggravation, making her more irritable than ever. Even now, in the quiet of the evening, she was like a caged lioness. Back and forth she went, tense and nervous, dropping into a chair now and then only to rise and continue her agitated pacing again. Until at last, as she reached to pick up her half-empty Coke bottle from the desk, it brushed against a pile of books and slid out of her grasp, spewing all over the place.
"Shit! I've sure got a case of the jitters."
Kim rushed to clean up the spilled mess. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"You? Hah! Not a damn thing."
"I'll, bet a nice warm bath would ease your tensions. Wouldn't you like me to run a tub for you?"
"A bath, eh? Well, maybe. Not that it's going to do much for what's ailing me. But go ahead. Start the water running and then scoot downstairs for another Coke, huh?"
In the bathroom, Kim turned the taps on full blast and made the necessary adjustments. Downstairs in the rec hall, she fed coins into the soda pop machine and was relieved to find it still in working order. When she came back up again, her roomie was already in the tub and looking almost peaceful. Less sullen, anyhow, certainly an auspicious sign; were the hostilities finally over?
"You're right, I guess. I'm beginning to feel better." Then, reaching for the drink, "You do get a halfway decent idea once in a while, you know?"
Auspicious indeed! "I-I'm glad you think so. Glad to be of service in any way I can." Giddily aglow, Kim bowed low in a fervor of sudden hope, pressing a kiss upon the outstretched fingers before handing over the bottle. "Isn't there anything ... ?"
"Hmm. Want to stay and keep me company? Not like this, though; what are you wearing that silly robe for?"
"Oh. I'm sorry. I put it on to go downstairs."
"Well, you're not downstairs now. I prefer my slave naked."
Such criticism was cause for cheer. Kim scurried off in a hurry to get rid of the offending garment. And to jam a tilted chair under the doorknob, setting up the makeshift lock once again, a precaution unnecessary until this joyous moment. Impulsively she stopped and took time for a hasty check of her own personal appearance; after all, a naked slave girl had to look as attractive as possible. Hair neatly brushed. And a judicious touch of makeup. Especially on her lips, these thick puffy lips that seemed to have such a bizarre appeal for her beloved mistress ... "
"Hey! What's taking you so long?"
She raced back into the bathroom and sank to her knees alongside the tub, waiting and hoping for some recognition of her effort. It came slowly at first-just a glance of appraisal-but then she saw the Coke bottle shifted away, emptying that same nearby hand in an obviously significant gesture. A gesture that may have portended prospects even beyond her wistful anticipation. Unwittingly, almost, she licked her newly applied coat of lipstick to a moist sheen, in preparation for those slim rosy-nailed fingers.
"So that's it. You fixed yourself up, huh?"
"Uh-huh. I was trying to make myself look nice for you. Is it all right? You called before I could finish ... "
"Nice, Very pretty." The hand was extended regally. "So you like getting prettied up for Sherry, hmm?"
Kim kissed it, blushing, suddenly quite shy in spite of her lascivious longings, all but overwhelmed by the flattery. A playful fingertip parted from the others inquisitively, gliding from side to side as if to perform a more deliberate inspection of her just-moistened and hopefully glistening lips. The touch shattered her restraint and she sucked it into her mouth greedily. It slithered around in a kind of tickling caress, toying with her tongue like some highly prized possession, and then at last reversed itself and began to slip out again. Still sucking, she tightened her lips and inched forward on shuffling knees, craning her neck and leaning over the edge of the tub precariously, desperately-aware of the inevitable but reluctant to quit nevertheless, too stubborn to relinquish the delicious tidbit without a struggle. It broke loose from the vacuum with a tiny pop and some hilarious giggling up above, and yet even then she curved the tip of her tongue and starred licking again-the upper lip, the lower, the inside of her mouth-not unwittingly this time but to glean every last precious bit of the taste. A very exciting taste, too, as good in its own way as the cunty-ripe crotch of soiled panties and pantyhose-and even those usually had to get washed right away to be dry and ready for their next wearing. Oh shit, no wonder the touch and taste of a finger meant so much; what with that dumb old misunderstanding and that dopey mistaken "logic" of hers, it had been so long ...
"Relax, honey. Let's chat awhile, huh?"
That was fine with Kim. The chatting, not the relaxation. She sure had something to chat about. "I -I've been thinking. About the whip, you know? I remember seeing something like that in my uncle's basement storeroom junk-theatrical props, mostly. So when I go home this weekend-"
"Your uncle? Sounds interesting. Is his house near yours? I mean, uh, will you have any trouble ... "
"Oh. It's the same house. I live with my uncle, he's my legal guardian. I never told you before because of what Miss Pringle said. You know. About why you got here in the middle of the term. You and I just didn't discuss it. Families, things like that. In fact, I was kind of surprised when you said something about your father going to California. First time you've ever even mentioned him. But don't let me rave on; I'll shut up about it if-"
"Hey, slow down. You can forget old Pringle, though, I'm pretty much over that by now. I'll even tell you about my mother's accident sometime. And you can fill me in about your guardian, okay? But not right this minute, Kim, I've got something else on my mind."
"Sure. Whatever you say. You're the boss."
"Yeah, that's it. Exactly. I'm the boss, sure enough, but how come you let me get away with it?"
"Huh? I-I don't understand."
"Well, just think back a little. That first day, remember? You made a pass in the shower and I got mad. And then when I wanted to change rooms, you were worried about Miss Pringle and begged me to let you off the hook. You do remember, don't you?"
"Oh. Yes, of course. But I still don't see ... "
"Silly. You should have figured it out by this time. After the things we've done together, you ought to know that I'm just as much a lezzie as you are. So I can't blackmail you any more. Not that I ever would have squealed even then, really, but at least it was a threat. Enough to scare you into becoming the perfect roommate. And I do mean perfect, you cunt-crazy kid, a perfect slave, a perfect suck-mouth, a perfect scrubber and sweeper and maid-of-all-work; believe me, I couldn't have asked for a better roomie. Only now there's no more blackmail, no more threat, nothing to keep you in line. Nothing but a little fun once in a while. Weird fun. So what do you say, butterball, are you still freaky for that kind of fun? Our kind! Still want to go on with it? Same as ever between us?"
"Do-do I have any choice?"
"Choice?"
"Well ... " Then, tremulously, a whimper, "Sherry?"
"Yeah. Sure, baby. You've got a choice. A choice of whatever whips that uncle of yours collected. You just bring back a good one and we'll test it on your fat ass. Okay? Now give me a hand out of this goddam tub."
Kim sprang into action, finding a safe corner for the empty pop .bottle first and then standing ready with a big towel and a strong shoulder, the routine after-bath procedure. She loved her role. In moments like this she imagined herself an experienced and steadfast maid serving a capriciously childlike mistress, adorable but also a bit of a hellion. Or a body-slave in a bygone era, perhaps, attending the personal needs-and catering to some even more personal whims, no doubt!-of the young and mischievous daughter of an illustrious patrician household.
As always, the procedure took on an aspect of ritual for her, assuming a degree of pomp and ceremony quite out of keeping with immediate reality. She flirted with the idea only briefly, again as always, and was somewhat dazed when it refused to vanish and let her get on with the work. It was almost tangible now, all tied up in some strange way with the end of the blackmail threat. As if the threat hadn't mattered even from the beginning. As if she was still a captive here in this sealed-off area, as much a captive as ever. More so, maybe. A captive slave now, no longer content to play just the perfect roomie ...
"Hey, you know something? You're getting good. The towel feels so light and soft and fluffy against my skin."
The compliment made Kim tingle with appreciation. And sigh with love. In a partial crouch, she peered up and was stunned by an abrupt change in the face looking down at her, so familiar and yet the face of a stranger somehow. A face that now seemed to exude an aura that wavered between imperious authority and honeyed sensuality, a face that could only make a self-admitted masochist's flesh crawl with eagerness for humiliation and punishment under such knowing domination. Or was it just an illusion, another flight of fancy. Was there no rationale for this spasm of shuddering delight, no truth to the cruel promise in those insolent blue eyes?
Intoxicated by her own hope, Kim could only be herself now, a humble slave with an obligation to discharge, a most essential rite to enact-the ritual acknowledgment of her slavery. She dropped to the floor and kissed one foot, the beautiful bare foot of her mistress. Not for her own pleasure, not for any such selfish motive, oh no, it was merely a gesture of ultimate submission, the one such clearly defined gesture in her blurry mind. And yet she could hardly remain oblivious to its erotic appeal, losing her head only too readily in the movement from one pretty foot to the other. Sucking toes and lapping at insteps and arches and reveling in the smooth softness was an excitement in itself. Only a fringe benefit, though. Crouching low and licking the feet of his doctorial but divinely feminine creature-a goddess, surely!-how better could a loving slave girl demonstrate the depth of her devotion?
"What the hell! That's nice, but you'll never get me dried oft' with that sloppy wet tongue. What happened to the towel? Come on. you freaky kid, quit fucking around and get back to work. Just dry me. Like before, light and fluffy, you know?"
The coarse command was made even more thrilling by a hint of mockery in the haughtily pitched voice, and Kim's mind whirled toward its own ominous interpretation. Shivering rapturously, she obeyed and resumed her labor, the words still echoing in her ear. That mocking tone, the crudely phrased tirade; didn't it sound like some sort of challenge? Even with the towel in her hands, she still couldn't resist the urge to pause momentarily and kiss a tempting bit of bath-warmed thigh flesh.
"Quit that! Just keep working."
"But you're so soft and sweet ... mmm ... "
"Are you trying to get me mad? Just because I don't have a whip to beat that fat ass black-and-blue? Better watch your step, lover-girl, or you might wind up regretting it."
"Mmm. It's worth a beating." Feigning an almost casual indifference to the undisguised flash of menace, Kim practically swooned over the potential consequences of such bravado. After all, there was still the hairbrush ...
"Greedy bitch. When you're back up around my tits again, maybe I'll take pity and let you have a little suck. No, not you. just that hot mouth of yours. Nice shiny thick lips. There now is that enough to make you behave?"
Kim mumbled a noncommittal reply, moving behind the majestically posed slim body to do the backs of the lovely legs. But she was still very much aware of the sardonic tone, the sense of challenge. And of the less complicated issues, too, the simple satisfaction of making love to this exquisitely molded flesh, a joy denied her for too many dull days and frustrating nights now. Glancing upward, she could see alluring darkness above and feel the terrible need, the hunger, the yearning, the torture of her unslaked thirsts. And it was just too much to bear. Irresistible!
Throwing caution to the winds, she tilted her face and nuzzled into the undercurve, slithering her tongue up between the pertly rounded buttocks, right up the length of the dark crack. And then halfway down again, to probe and pry ...
A loud snort sounded overhead, derisive, vengeful, and she felt a hand bang the back of her skull peremptorily, clutching a fistful of hair and hauling her right along as Sherry took a few small strutting paces. They came to an abrupt halt together, the momentum bumping Kim's nose inside the firm-fleshed cleavage. All that motion with no apparent purpose seemed pretty puzzling, but she was too far gone to worry about it. Her tongue got busy again; whatever else might happen, this was already more than she had expected.
An instant later the noise of running water penetrated to add to her puzzlement. Then, suddenly, the delectable contact was broken-and with a streaking jolt of agony that made her groan aloud, the puzzle solved itself. She realized only too well where they were and why the water had been doing all that gushing and gurgling. Her fiendishly clever roommate had soaked a towel in the sink and spun around to use it as a weapon. And what a weapon!
The successive sting of each impact had her ass writhing in a state of torment. Kim heard herself groaning almost continually now and could only wonder why the sound of such distress should be tinged with overtones of ecstasy. Until the fog closed in on her, a sensuous velvet haze that stifled reason and demanded action, and once again she slumped low and began licking the feet of her all-powerful mistress, her captor, her owner, her fiercely vindictive goddess. And even more than a while ago her homage was hot and unstinting and very real; oh, it was marvelous to live this bizarre scene instead of acting it out like a hopeful charade.
But again, just like before, she glanced up and saw the fascinating darkness, a different darkness this time but just as irresistible; her own cunt squirmed in empathy and she started kissing upward. The lithe limbs inched apart, opening to receive her avidly seeking mouth. She liked that. Now she could show her gratitude like a true slave.
"Oh! So it's my cunt you're after, eh? Okay. Here. But keep that fat ass up where I can get a good swing at it, you hear?"
Kim jutted her backside, nodding assent vigorously and reaching her goal in the same movement, an entry aided and abetted by the emphatic bobbing of her head. The cleft flesh bade her welcome, the furry-framed cunt-lips kissing back eagerly, all hot and moist and viscous, sucking the tongue right out of her mouth. While the sodden towel was like a lash, pinking her bottom and reinforcing the already awesome urgency of going all-out to fulfill any and every demand of the merciless tyrant who swung it. Vaguely she understood how everything meshed together, one gear driving another for the good of-both, the combined good of all. In the end, pain endured could only mean pleasure enhanced.
Even more important than understanding, though, was the pure joy of seeing her love accepted again. The loving suck-kisses of her mouth, no longer denied the intimacy of that lovable cunt; oh, how she needed this! Gratitude welled up to affect her brain and body like an aphrodisiac catalyst, rearranging her chemistry, turning flesh and blood and bone to jellied passion. But giving it a strength of its own, too, a passionate violence that refused to be curbed or controlled as she tunneled up into the hot juicy source of her ecstasy-until the sheer force of her thrust all but lifted the buoyantly feminine figure off its feet.
"Hey! Take it easy!"
"Hmmm?"
"Oh shit, I'd better get settled before you bowl me over. Stick close, baby, we're traveling again."
The message seemed somewhat obscure from Kim's vantage-point, but she knew enough to follow along and just keep on lapping that steamy and uncommonly succulent slit. On her knees, pulled by a hand in her hair and prodded by the towel stinging her tail-surely a rosy red rump by now!-she hung on valiantly, sucking cunt and skittering across the tiles. And only with the slam of the toilet lid, a thump, a hollow echo, did she realize just where the girl-goddess had chosen to get herself settled.
"Uh-huh. Now suck!"
Kim sucked. Not that she had ever let up. Or even slowed down. For one poignant moment, though, she felt an intrusive twinge of something other than pleasure. Sex on the toilet; talk about freaky'. What if the lid had been left up? The thought made her a bit queasy in the pit of her belly. And yet, somehow, the feeling turned sexy and got swallowed up in the heat of her cunt. Hmm. Even sexier than before?
That scared her a little and she tried to forget it and concentrate on the job at hand. Climax coming! And with her ass on fire and her mouth full-of silky-wet flesh about to cream, she didn't really have much time to fret over details. Except that she was almost afraid to recognize her own excitement when the thought recurred again, queasiness and all to taunt her with the terrifying possibilities of such a plunge into depravity.
Chapter Twelve
Dinner was informal, very much so, what with the cook's day off and the maid down with a headachy pre-summer cold that sent her home early. Hardly an auspicious start for a schoolgirl's one and only expanded holiday weekend, but Sherry didn't mind at all. Not as long as the table was set for two instead of three. Regardless of the casual atmosphere, being alone with Angela was always a pleasure, an occasion in itself.
And today, especially, she had missed the company of her lovely blonde stepmother. After waiting a goodly part of the afternoon it was nice to have her home again, radiant with cheer despite a tiresome shopping trip. It scarcely mattered that they had to open cans and fend for themselves. They were together. Who gave a damn about food anyhow? People this lucky could live on love!
"Such pretty hair. So soft and silky ... " Sherry was still on her feet, reluctant to sit down and end the impulsive caress. "Like threads of gold, all I bright and shiny."
"Oooh, that feels nice."
"Does it? I'll do it all night if you want me to. Just what I'm doing now. Would you like that?"
"All night? Nothing else?"
"Well ... maybe I'd think of something."
Angela giggled. "I'm sure you would." Still mobile with muted laughter, her expression turned almost lewd. "You usually do."
"Hmm. What a face! Wish I knew what you were thinking of."
"Sorry about that. I'll never tell. But if you should happen to catch me in a weepy mood in front of my dressing table ... "
"Oh. Touch tongues?"
"Uh-huh. Among other things. Mostly other things, though, in case you're interested."
Pulses throbbing, Sherry bent over and nibbled an earlobe, warming it with a breathy whisper. "I'm interested. You too? Is that why your ass is wiggling around on the chair?" Her hand glided to the big shapely breasts, tingling to the tactile sensation, quite detached from the more insidious influence of her lips. "Wait. Feel my tongue in your ear? Remember how it felt down there? Yeah. I'll bet that cute little asshole of yours is squirming right now."
"You-you rascal! What a thing to say!"
"It's true, isn't it?"
The creamy complexion blushed crimson. "N- no ... "
"No?" Sherry's cupped palm tightened, sensing the already aroused nipple through tiers of fabric. A diversionary tactic, nothing more, hardly comparable to this bout with the blushing cheeks and the obviously inflamed ear. "Come now, darling, don't you know it's a sin to tell a lie?"
"Hah! Look who's talking about sin! And if it's that important to you, okay, I really wasn't lying. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of it the other way around."
"The other way? I-I don't get it."
"Damn! Must you embarrass me? Oh, the hell with it, you're bound to find out anyway. I was thinking of doing that same thing to you. So my tongue might have itched a little, but my ass sure wasn't squirming. There. Satisfied? Now do sit down and let's eat, shall we? Uh, would you like candles on the table?"
Duly chastened, Sherry slunk to her seat. "Not tonight. No big deal, huh? The less time we take, the better."
"Why so impatient? Felix won't be home till late, so we've got hours and hours. Besides, a little waiting makes everything that much more fun when we do get around to it. So let's have a nice leisurely dinner and chat like friends instead of anxious lovers. Maybe I'll even tell you what I bought in the stores today."
"No, thanks. I'd rather you hadn't gone in the first place."
"I know, dear. But please don't blame me. Felix suggested it and I couldn't very well say no. We met for lunch and then he told me to shop for clothes for the California trip. So it wasn't-"
"California, ugh!"
"You think I don't feel the same way? It'll be torture not seeing you all that time. But I simply can't get out of it. Not any more than-" The phone rang, cutting off Angela's explanation. When she reappeared a minute later, her face was covered with a frown. "That was your father. He's changed his plans. He's coming home now and wants me to help him all weekend on some big business deal!"
"That ruins everything!" Sherry pouted. "Does that mean we won't be able to ...?"
Angela shrugged, then walked over and embraced her. "I don't know, honey. We'll just have to wait and see ... "
Chapter Thirteen
Oh, it was so exasperating, this incessant state of turmoil, and Angela could only bless the telephone for every ring. Because that was her only chance to race through the hall and spend some time with her little darling. Not much time, darn the luck, so each minute was precious here. Precious to her peace of mind, actually, as well as for the more obvious reasons. Lately it seemed as though this was the only room in the house where she didn't have to act like a phony ...
"How long can you stay?"
"Don't ask. Ten or fifteen minutes at most. It's never very long. Sherry, you know that."
"Oh ... "
"Such a pretty pout. Let me kiss it into a smile. There! I missed you so much, darling."
"Hmph. Call that a kiss?"
"Well ... I thought we ought to talk awhile ... "
"You're right, I guess. I'm just greedy."
"Are you? Right now. My greedy little piglet?"
"Oooh, yes. Can we? Angela"
"For a little while. Just to prove I did miss you, if nothing else. Mmm. such a pretty piglet. No, don't do that. Leave my buttons alone, there's no time. You just lie still, hmm?"
"Oh. Oooh!"
Aglow with affection, Angela sighed as a hand stroked her hair tenderly. And when the pressure firmed and began to guide her. she felt as if a burden had been lifted from her mind. This was where she could be herself. No more problems. There was only this precious moment, everything else could wait.
The hand moved again, demanding. In silent submission, she felt herself acceding to the demand. The perfume in her nostrils, the softness in her mouth, the sweetness under her tongue-who could resist such compulsion? She sank deeper into her spell of enchantment, intent on offering the most abject adoration.
"Yeah. My whore. My cuntlapping whore!"
Angela moaned ecstatically. And then, somehow, she could only whimper and try to clear her head as the pressure reversed itself, turning to traction in her hair, the clutch of entwined fingers hauling her up out of the blissful nest. What a mean thing to do; oh, that mischievous little wretch! Just when she was beginning to find herself, too, her own true self.
"Darling? You-you stopped me."
"Uh-huh. We're both nice and horny now. That's the best time to slow down and talk. You did want to talk awhile, didn't you?"
"You devil! But you're right, of course. As usual. Oh, it's awful, simply awful. Two days of it. I feel like a prisoner."
"How do you think I feel? I just sit here waiting to hear that stupid phone ring. And even then I'm never sure you'll be coming. Sometimes I wonder if he isn't doing it on purpose. Angela, is there a chance he's getting suspicious?"
"No, dear, nothing like that. It's because he doesn't want his office help to know about the California deal. The final arrangements are strictly in secret. The people on the West Coast call this number and no one is the wiser."
"Hmm. Sounds kind of shady to me. Anyway, why do you have to stay with him all the time? I get so tired of--"
"Sweetheart, it's secret but hardly shady. It's just a big business deal, the biggest he's ever gone into, and the word mustn't get out until all the legal work is over. Even a rumor can make the market price fluctuate."
"Okay, okay, so let him wheel and deal and make money. But you're no secretary. Angela. What do you do over there, sharpen his pencils'?"
"Don't be silly. It's just so he doesn't have to talk to any of his New York associates. When the phone rings, I answer it. If it's a local call, I just say he's sick. And if it's long distance. I hand it over to him. So he needs me right there, don't you see?"
"In the bedroom?"
"Well, that's where he's got his papers spread out. And the extension phone is convenient. Anyway, it'll all be over soon-shortly after we're back from California, he says. Oh, how I dread that darn trip! You have no idea how much I'll miss you"
"I miss you right now. You're here in the house with me and I still only see you a few minutes at a time."
"Don't I know it? And speaking of the time, uh, I'd better be getting back soon. Are you still a greedy little piglet?"
"The greediest. You still my whore?"
"Need you ask? Always. Always and always."
"Come on, then. Get to work. Suck my cunt. Suck it until I come in your mouth. You'd like that, huh? A mouthful of nice hot girl-cream?"
"Mmm ... cunt-yummy ... "
"Y'eah. Suck my yummy cunt, you whore!"
It didn't take long. Angela knew the way only too well, simply following her tongue through the dark pubescence and between the already moist and overheated cunt-lips. Wallowing once again in the slippery depths beyond, deep in the cloven flesh that opened wide to the burrowing thrust of her face. Quite as greedy as any little piglet, of course, although in all her life she had never before known greed and fulfillment to be so compatible; was it any wonder then that this was where the search for herself always seemed to end?
"Do it, do it, do your job like a good whore. Suck me. Satisfy me. Cuntlapping whore'. Open wide now, give me that slimy whore-mouth to cream in, you hot bitch!"
Slim velvet thighs scissored shut upon Angela's cheeks. From above she could hear a wail rising behind clenched teeth. The tightly locked legs rolled over, carrying her along inside their grip. Until at last she lay face-up, her mouth gulping for the wet flesh, the wet flow, the cunt-yummy-more pleasing to the sophisticated palate than any cognac ever bottled. While the explosion-wracked young body bounced and jounced and pumped up and down as if that sturdy little vulva was fucking her face. The kind of thrilling fuck she had never been able to get from any hairy old bastard's cock ...
On the way back, Angela slowed down to gain composure before entering the bedroom. The hall wasn't very long, but the difference between one end and the other was astronomical. The journey always left her weak and mixed-up, her mind and body torn, ripped apart by opposing forces. She was going to her husband now, a nice old guy in spite of his faults. But she could only offer him part of herself, the shell, strictly phony-and that very knowledge plagued her, taunted her, dared her to make the final admission and be done with it. The admission that would probably govern the rest of her life.
Love?
Uh-huh. There it was. For the first and only time in her memory, she was genuinely in love. And with a girl. A female. A person of her own sex. Felix meant nothing. Sherry meant everything. Love was bigger than money, bigger than security, bigger than all her hopes and plans for the years to come. And that could lead to only one conclusion. The brutal truth. The thing that couldn't be swept under the rug-the honest truth, brutal as it might be.
Face it, baby, you're a lesbian ...
Inside the bedroom, her husband was poring over his spread-out papers. He glanced up, eyeing her curiously. "You're back, eh? Hmm. Where the hell were you?"
She ignored the question. "Phone call over?"
"Of course. But where did you go?"
"Oh, here and there." Her shrug feigned disinterest. "I do have to check on the rest of the house once in a while, you know. The place won't run itself without a little nudge now and then. And I took a peek to see how Sherry is getting along."
"Sherry? What for? She's old enough to take care of herself. You just take care of me, huh?"
"Dear, don't I always? Why be cross? If the phone had rung again, I would have reached it in time. Besides, I like Sherry. She's a pretty interesting child-and she is your daughter, Felix, so I feel responsible for-"
"Okay, so she's my daughter, I've heard you say-that before often enough. And it's nice that you two are friendly, I'll admit. But don't overdo it, honey."
"Overdo it? What do you mean?"
"Well ... maybe it's just me-and this business deal I've been stewing over. But lately you've seemed different somehow. It's nothing I can put my finger on, so don't quiz me. There's been a change in you, that's all."
"Really? I hadn't noticed." Angela flashed a placating smile. "Oh. you're just imagining things. You've been working too hard, dear. You'll wear yourself out at this pace."
"Perhaps you're right."
"You know I am. And anyway, what has Sherry got to do with it? I do try to spend some time with her-that's only understandable-after all, we are related. But I doubt if that could have caused any change in me-or whatever it is that's bothering you."
"I'm sorry, honey. I was wrong to pick on you. Especially since you're just an, innocent bystander. And I may as well come clean, as long as we're on the subject. Call me a coldhearted father, if you must, but I just can't get used to having the kid around. I've wanted to-believe me-but she gets under my skin. She's too much like her mother. Reminds me of the days I'd rather forget."
"Felix, no! That's an awful thing to say. You mustn't lump the two together. Sherry is your own flesh and blood. Her mother is dead and out of your life completely. One is in the past and the other is in the present. Very much in the present, since it was your idea to bring her here."
"Don't rub it in. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But it hasn't worked. I just can't feel any affection for her." He shook his head mournfully. "I guess maybe I just wasn't cut out for fatherhood."
"Please. I won't even listen when you talk like that. It's not true. First it was me. now it's Sherry. And it isn't either of us that's upsetting you. It's business. You need a vacation, that's the answer. A long rest away from all those bulls and bears and margins and-"
"Hey, slow down. Sure. I need a vacation. We both do. But meanwhile, let's try to make the best of it. Never mind the kid, just stay close to me. will you?" Then, with a sheepish grin, "Hmm. Speaking of changes. When was the last time you poured on the perfume for me'? Without my specifically telling you to, I mean."
"Oh "Quite a while ago, right?"
"Well. yes. it was. But you've been away so much. And I never knew when you'd be getting home. You were always so late. So how could I prepare for you?"
"I'm home now."
"Oh sure. And so is the telephone. It would start ringing the minute I climbed into the bathtub."
"Surprise. No more calls. Not for a couple of hours, at least. That last one just about got everything set. So if you really want to take a bath ... "
She wrinkled her nose coyly. "Perfume?"
"The works. Some of that frangipani stuff, huh?"
With peace reigning once again, Angela ran a heavily scented tub and slipped into its comforting embrace. It was a much-needed comfort, considering what she had just been through. That husband of hers was becoming a bit troublesome.
"Honey?"
"Hmm? What is it, Felix?"
"Listen. I just thought of something. Or at least I made a decision, anyway. About the kid. That school in Switzerland was a pretty good one. It was sure expensive enough-and she was happy there, too. So that's where I'll send her. Why fool around with her education, huh? Only she'll have to go for the summer session, I figure, to make up whatever she missed this term. That place in Connecticut is just a country club, so she might even need some special tutoring now. Besides, that'll give us a chance to take the vacation we both need. A nice long holiday together. We could even go to South America, you know? Spend the whole summer just being lazy. I'd feel better knowing the kid is safe in that Swiss school; that way we'd have no more problems."
Angela remained silent. But no reply was necessary. Nor had her opinion even been called for, actually, and at this point any argument was bound to be futile. She knew her husband only too well. Nobody was going to talk him out of something that important. He was getting rid of his unwanted daughter again. Sending her far away. Too far for weekends at home. So that he wouldn't be reminded of the things he preferred to forget. Sending her away soon, too. So that he could enjoy his summer undisturbed by a guilty conscience ...
Bastard!
The scent was overpowering. Suddenly it turned rancid and noxious in Angela's lungs. She coughed, shuddering at the stench, almost sick to her stomach. The suffocating stuff was hateful. And so was her reason for bathing in it. Hateful! That man out there, that self-centered know-it-all who wrote the checks and made the decisions; was it to lure him to make use of her body that she had to drown herself in this slop? Ugh. Let him choke on it, the louse!
Chapter Fourteen
"You're serious?" Lounging on her bed. Sherry cocked one eye and became alert. "You actually talked to your uncle about me?"
"Uh-huh. Oh, don't worry, I didn't tell him anything he shouldn't know. Nothing about ... well ... "
"I should hope not. What did he say?"
"Just what I expected. He's all for it. Especially when I told him you'd been to school in Switzerland. Up till now he's acted kind of hesitant-he still won't let me go alone, that's for sure-so this is the first time he's okayed the idea. Because of you. He thinks you'd be an ideal companion for a European study year."
"Sorry. I'm just not interested."
"Won't you even think about it?" Kim swung around from her labor, obviously concerned over the issue, an expression of anxiety masking her features. The dust cloth dangled from her fingers limply, but everything else seemed- stiff with tension. It was even visible in the lines of her naked body, rigid now instead of shaking like a bowl of gelatin. For a jolly-type fat girl, she looked pretty harrowed. "Don't say no yet, just kick it around awhile, huh?"
"Well ... "
"If it's the money, I'll bet Uncle George would pay your expenses. You've been there and you speak fluent French-that really impressed him, you know? And I just don't want to see Europe with anyone but you. Sherry? Is it the money? I'm sure he'd come through; all I have to do is ask."
"It's not the money. But I'll think about it, though."
For the moment, at least, that ended the discussion. Wadding up the cloth again, the "perfect roomie" returned to her cleaning chores. Sherry smiled contentedly, glad to let the matter hang and wait for her decision, even though she had no intention of parting from her beloved stepmother next year. Next weekend was bad enough, damn the luck!
Still, it was nice to have such an obliging roommate to keep her happy. Obliging and respectful. There was still another matter to be discussed, but that too awaited her pleasure. Except for an apologetic explanation, Kim was remaining silent about the whips. And rightly so. Or the whip, rather, since she had brought only one. A whip and two leather belts, all she had found in her uncle's storeroom cache. And even that one whip left something to be desired; it was made of some braided canelike material, flexible and whippy at the tip, but much too tough for a simple punishment. Too long, also, an ungainly thing to handle, and Sherry was a trifle dubious about testing her unpracticed and unskilled hand with such a heavy weapon. Nor did she care to try a belt, either, hardly an acceptable substitute in spite of the profuse apologies. And yet she couldn't just act disgruntled and call the whole deal off, not with so much time to kill before her next trip home.
The stuff was on the bedside table. She glanced at it speculatively, wondering how to begin. Aside from its size and weight, the whip was quite intriguing; the thick end was topped with an ornament of some sort, a piece of carved bone now worn almost smooth and barely recognizable as a face. A replica of the devil, more than likely, jutting out at an angle like the crook-end of a riding crop. Hmm. Wasn't there some way to use the darn gadget?
Kim's back was turned. Still busy with the dust-cloth, she had lost her stiffness and become flabby again, her big round buttocks quivering provocatively with every movement. The ass of a slave girl, not a maidservant, an ass that seemed to demand action. Or a pretense of action, anyway, even if it amounted to no more than a playful threat.
In silence, Sherry rose from the bed and picked up the whip, carrying it reversed, her hand nearer the tapered end but gripping enough thickness to maintain control over the extended crook. Then, taking one of the belts along for good measure, she glided up behind her oblivious roommate. Grinning impishly-and rather enjoying her sneaky approach- she poked the butt of the whip between those plump thighs and pulled back slightly, wiggling her hand until it sensed a certain softness, a lack of resistance, the softness of an open and unimpeded cunt ...
"Oooh!"
"Scare you?" Another twitch got the hook in deeper. "Hmm. Looks like I've caught myself a great big fish. Yeah. Gotcha!"
"It-it feels so funny." Kim dropped the dust rag and twisted a little, trying to revolve slowly. The maneuver came to an abrupt halt, though, as the belt whirred and whacked her rump.
The blow was comparatively gentle, more startling than painful, no doubt, judging by the small squeal of response. Just hard enough to demonstrate conclusive authority. "Stand still! Don't you dare turn around."
"Oh. Yes. Whatever you say."
Gleefully now, Sherry kept the wriggle going in a narrow arc, swift but scarcely perceptible in range, almost like a mechanical vibration. Again she probed, guiding the unseen tip upward until it touched a button, the right button apparently; no reaction could have been more convincing! Uh-huh. Now it was right up in there, that burnished bit of bone or tusk or whatever, up where it was doing the most good. Did the kid know the devil was kissing her clit?
Maybe not, but the effect sure wasn't bad. A steady moan had become audible now, always a telltale sign. The chubby body was beginning to jerk and writhe and thrust backward at the hips, embracing the wiggly intruder of its own accord. That old devil had certainly found a welcome! The belt whirred again. "No!"
"Hmm? What-"
"Stand still. Don't move. Not even a flutter, you hear? Just stand there like a stone statue."
Kim's obedience was flawless, freezing her pose instantly. But it couldn't last, of course, and her flesh soon started to betray her, sending ripples of passion to the surface. As though the tickle of the whip-hook had her clitoris in a predicament, sending out the spasmodic messages no matter how hard she struggled to comply with the command.
"Didn't you understand me? Stay still!"
"I-I'm trying ... "
"Oh? Then why can't you?"
"It's the feeling inside me- Everything is busting apart and I can't make it stop."
"Busting apart, eh?" Sherry smiled through her sarcasm, seeing the phrase as a fairly accurate description of an orgasm in the making. She stepped up the tempo and pressure a little "Okay, so bust apart. Bust!."
"Oooh!"
"You're coming?"
"I-I think so. Yesss! It's happening."
"Fine. That's enough, then. No more for you." In a great rush, Sherry freed the hook and sat herself down on the nearest chair. "Come here. Do me. Now that you're all hot and horny, it ought to be a good job. Suck my cunt, slave!"
It was pretty much as she had expected. On the brink of climax, the poor kid was going through hell to regain control over her muscles. Kim stood immobile, just twitching, unable to function, unable to start her legs walking. Her mouth was open, gulping in air between the shiny thick lips. Then, with a groan of anguish, she smashed the invisible chains and scurried to fulfill her assignment.
Her knees hit the floor with a thud. In a frenzy of adoration, she offered her mouth in homage, obedient beyond belief, staving off her own peak pleasure at what could only have been a crisis. The excitement was almost more than Sherry could take. She felt the eager tongue squirm around inside her cunt and then confine its activity to her clitoris, lapping, licking, stabbing, urging her into a sexy stupor with astonishing precision. A stupor that she refused to enter, though, vaguely aware of some deterrent, something out of the ordinary. And then not so vague. The whip, of course. It was still in her hand, still in that same reversed position. Somewhere along the line she had thrown the belt aside, why not the whip?
Simple. She shed her languor and took a fresh grip, the right way this time. That big fat ass was within reach; she swung vigorously, delighting in the crackling noise and then the color as it streaked pink across lily-white skin, the flexible end now, turning the long weapon into an extension of her arm. The kid moaned down there and switched the style of her caresses, diving in deeper with a side-to-side roll of her head. Not so precise any more, but just as exciting as that face pushed in like a slippery wedge, opening Sherry's cunt wide and stimulating her to further excesses. She went wild with the whip, a reddish haze blurring her eyes and making her lose track of everything but her own sensations. The flesh turned pink all over and soon became part of the fiery mist of her gaze, quite indistinguishable. It was all one and the same, a cloud of ecstasy, all scarlet-even the thing going on between her own legs, the cunt-thing!-all geared to the slash of the scarlet whip upon that endless expanse of scarlet ass ...
Edging out of the shadow of slumber, Kim sniffed the perfume and smiled happily, lingering in sleep no longer. The girl-smell, ripe and cunty and indescribably erotic. Sherry. Right here in the same bed, right here alongside her. Right where they had dozed off together last night. Sherry. Here for the weekend, too, and the wonderful days and nights could be spent without interruption. All love ... beautiful love ...
And the whip?
Kim winced. In a strange way, that too was love, a love so thrilling that it even made her feel guilty. And with cause, too, since she was actually leading her darling mistress farther along down that particular path of sin. Umm, so. not leading, exactly-but it amounted to the same thing. The whip had achieved a certain status here in this cunty-hot room. Even tucked away in that closet hiding-place, it was never completely forgotten, never a case of 'out of sight, out of mind."
For that matter, guess who was thinking of it this minute! Kim stroked her bottom gingerly, wincing again but rather enjoying her misery. Such welts! She knew what they would look like in the mirror, always similar but always a little different. Making her big buttocks hang heavy, sullen-and yet giving her a sense of pride for having survived the ordeal. Elation, almost. And a sense of gratitude, too, but that was all mixed up with love anyway. Which in turn was all mixed up with the excitement of the whip ...
Damn! Talk about excitement; just from thinking about it? She could almost feel her cunt licking its lips. To say nothing of her ass burning. Time to cozy up maybe? After all, what did she have to lose?
Rolling over slowly, Kim was careful not to disturb the lovely body stretched out at her side. Careful not to disturb it abruptly, at least. For she did mean to disturb it. In her own way. A way-hopefully!-that would please her often petulant roomie.
With courage tempted by caution, she nuzzled the softness, her lips touching the smooth throat and then wandering downward to graze upon a pink-nippled breast. Not for long, though, or she might have succumbed to temptation and gorged herself on a real mouthful of that luscious tit-flesh. Instead, quite prudently, she slid lower on the bed to run her tongue over the slender thighs. It gave her a sweetly familiar feeling of abasement, a kind of divine depravity-humbling herself while the goddess still slept. But the first signs were already noticeable, sleep was fading fast. Lightly, gently, she coaxed her adorable boss-girl into voluptuous response, a sort of dreamy wakefulness.
"Hmm? That you, Kim?"
"Shhh ... "
"Time to get up?"
"Not yet."
"Mmm. Feels good. I love your kisses."
"And I love kissing you. But don't move, darling. You don't have to get up at all. It's the weekend, remember?"
"Oh. I forgot."
"I'll help you remember. Like this ... "
"Ummm. Oooh!"
"You like?"
"Love it, love it."
Kim reveled in her slavery. The cunt of her mistress was like a nest, a spice-scented nest, so soft and moist and suckable. Slave to a beautiful girl, the most beautiful girl in the world; what more could she ask for? Mmm, yes, suckable ...
And so exciting! Especially when some extra-hot flick of her tongue was answered by a lurch or a joyous squeal. Such a thrill to serve her adored idol. She could just go on rubbing her face up and down inside this cunt-nest for the entire weekend. Wouldn't it be grand to go on like this for the rest of her life?
"Hey!"
"Hmm? Oh ... "
"Yeah, like that. My ass, too. It's what you're always begging for, isn't it? Kiss my ass. Suck my asshole!"
Breathing became increasingly difficult, but Kim only felt the added rapture of smothering in love. The taste was different now, all dark and mysterious and steeped in degradation; it implanted new notions in her mind, misty and vague and terribly wicked-like pieces of some strange fantasy ...
Chapter Fifteen
It was good to be getting home after so long, and Sherry could scarcely wait to see her beloved blonde stepmother alone. Good just to be getting away from school, too, away from that nerve-wracking entanglement. As a bed-partner, her roommate displayed a fine fervor that seemed almost endless, but living with such a voracious appetite for any length of time could become pretty cloying. It got so she couldn't even go to the bathroom without slavish Kim trailing behind and begging to be of service. Ugh. That masochistic fat bitch had such a dirty mind!
But that would all be ending soon anyway, the school term was nearly over. Nothing to fret about. No, her only worry now was right here at home. Her father was still sticking close to his beautiful young wife, even though they had just returned from the California trip. Aside from prim and proper parental greetings, Sherry found herself left out in the cold. Until at last, toward bedtime, Angela got a chance to whisper in her ear.
"Stay up late tonight, I'll try to sneak a couple of minutes with you. Not in your room, though. Watch the TV or something like that. I'll find an excuse to come downstairs."
"But how can we-"
"No questions, darling. I love you."
"And I love you. I'm just dying to-"
"Hush ... "
That ended it. Angela's wary eyes had spotted her husband's approach and nothing more was said. But the message had been clear enough and Sherry followed it to the letter. Although she paid scant attention to the late-night movie on the television screen. Most of the time her gaze was fixed on the stairway -watching for love to join her-and eventually she was rewarded. In nightgown and robe, the lovely vision hastened down the steps, surrounded by an aura of perfume that made Sherry's head swim as they embraced eagerly.
"Mmm ... " The rosebud lips moaned into her open mouth. "I can feel it all the way down to-"
"Shhh. Just kiss."
"But I must. That hot little tongue of yours. I can feel it all the way down inside my tummy."
"Tummy? You mean this?"
"Oooh!"
"Some tummy. If you hadn't told me, I could have sworn it was a cunt. A kissy cunt."
"Rascal ... "
"More. You too. Tongue. Lick the inside of my mouth." Sherry all but swooned. But then there was only the pain of frustration as the rosebud lips pulled away in fearful protest.
"Darling, we can't. Not here. We're liable to-"
"Let's go to my room then."
"Oh, I wish we could. But he's waiting for me. I only came down for a pack of cigarettes-that was my excuse." Angela patted her robe pocket. "I've got them right here, really, but I just had to come and talk to you. Even though it's bad news."
"Bad news?"
"Awful. He wants to take me to South America for a vacation, a long vacation. All summer ... "
"But you went to California. Wasn't that-"
"I know, I know. But that was business. Or at least that's what Felix says. Even when he practically wore me out with his playing around. The climate must have agreed with him."
"Never mind that. What about South America. Is it true? It's not just some kind of silly joke?"
"No. It's the truth." For an anxious moment, Angela seemed to go to pieces. "Do you think I could stand here like this and make up stories? After being away from you all that time?"
"Okay, okay. Calm down."
"I-I'm sorry. You don't know what torture it's been for me. Missing you, wanting you, needing you -and then getting into bed with him night after night."
"Listen, can't you stay with me right now? Doesn't he ever sleep?"
"Not tonight, he won't. I know the mood he's in. If I don't go back up there, he'll be coming after me."
"Oh. Maybe tomorrow night, then. But about South America-"
"Darling, that's not all. Bad news, I mean. Wait till you hear the rest of it. I spent hours-weeks-trying to get him to change his mind. Stubborn mule! He's sending you back to that school in Switzerland. Starting this summer, too, isn't that horrible? I almost didn't know how to tell you."
Speechless, utterly demoralized, Sherry let the chilling words sink in. Switzerland. That strict school. So far away from home, away from her one real love. Switzerland-and this time without those weekend holidays from the intolerable grind. It was too much. More than she could put up with.
"Sherry? Are you all right? Oh darling, I'm so sorry. I did everything possible, but he just wouldn't_"
"I wish he was dead."
Angela gasped. "No, You mustn't say things like that."
"I wish he was dead."
"He's your father. Don't-"
The big- voice boomed from above. "Angela? You still down there? What the hell are you doing?"
"The cigarettes, dear. Oh, I just found them." Her tone had a casual lilt. "I'll be right up." But there was a grim look on her features as she whirled toward the stairs. And her body appeared to be sagging under some invisible weight.
That expression on her face!-Sherry would never forget it. If looks could kill, Felix Bartholomew would be a dead man. She couldn't recall ever seeing such hatred, such undisguised loathing, such fierce and vengeful resentment-and on such a beautiful face, too. But like a dutiful wife, Angela had gone just the same. Straight up to the bed of the man they both detested.
Sherry was shaking as she put the lights out and started to her room. Shuddering, actually, and for many reasons. The news about South America. The school in Switzerland. But most of all because of what she had said. I wish he was dead. In an angry moment a thing like that had no meaning. And neither did her stepmother's murderous look. That was just the way people acted under stress, of course. And yet when two people reacted in exactly the same manner, what then?
Coincidence, no doubt. Nothing else. Pure coincidence. Only why was she still shivering like this?
It was possible, Angela figured, that her husband would spend at least part of the day in his office. But her hopes were soon dashed to bits. Until word of the business deal became public, Felix was still avoiding Wall Street. So there could be no rendezvous with her lesbian lover, no breathless embraces, no kisses. Nothing. Only that horrid old man. It was a situation that called for desperate measures, and once again she sought Sherry's ear for an hastily whispered aside.
"Tonight, honey. We've just got to. In your room. You wait for me-and don't you dare fall asleep. I'll find some way to get there. I swear it."
"Yesss! Come. But then will you stay awhile? It won't be just to kiss and run, will it?"
"No. More than that. I promise. So stay awake for me no matter how late it is. I'll be there ... " A hand touched her, and for one wondrous instant Angela forgot her problems in a daze of sensual delight. "Darling, darling, how I love you! Such clever fingers ... "
"Ummm, nice and soft."
"But let me go. Wait till-"
"Uh-huh. In a minute."
"Oooh! Little imp."
"There. Something to remember me by. And here ... "
"No. Save it for later."
"You save it. Know what I mean?"
Angela fled, panting at the audacity of the caress. But she had committed herself now and meant to go through with it, rash as the promise might have sounded. Although from all indications there was a strong possibility that the difficulty would decrease of its own accord. Throughout the holiday, her husband's sexual ardor had been remarkable. A rejuvenation, practically. But they were home now and the exhilaration had already begun to fade in these more familiar circumstances. Last night's lovemaking had been pretty much a final splurge, she guessed. The guy had shot his wad.
Oh sure, there would be more tonight, quite likely -he was still feeling his oats a little. A quickie, anyway, and then some sleep. But that too could be a problem; what if he woke up and found her gone? What if he came searching for her? A revolting thought! No, she would have to minimize the risk by wearing him down to exhaustion. Even if it meant putting on a brand-new act every time he showed signs of flagging. Tonight, then, there would be no sleep for her husband until she was certain it would last till morning.
When bedtime came, she put her plan into operation. At first it was Felix who took the lead and she merely capitulated to his wishes. But the moment he appeared satisfied she invented some choice fillip to spur him one. Until he groaned in mock protest.
"Hey, what's got into you tonight? Honey, you're wild. How long do you think I can keep it up?"
"Forever, dear. At least I hope so."
"Hmm. At my age I'm lucky to-"
But his objection, such as it was, fell by the wayside as she smothered it in a burst of fresh energy. And like a man seeking his lost youth, Felix dropped his self-deprecating tone and lunged into another round of revelry. And so it went. To her it was a matter of safety. To him it was a matter of manly pride. Until at last, after a spasm of frenzy that was well-nigh cataclysmic, he closed his eyes and wheezed off to dreamland.
Angela waited awhile to make sure, feeling like a whore, a sultry depraved whore. And then, taking only time for a quick scrub, she sped down the hall. She was weary from her bout with Felix, understandably, but desire was limitless. This kind of desire ...
"Darling? You awake?"
"You came!"
"I promised, didn't I? No, never mind the light. Just let me hold you. Oh, I've waited so long for-"
"Me too. But is it all right? Are we safe? How did you manage to get away?"
"A kiss first."
"Mmmm. There. Now tell me. I'm still worried."
"Nothing to worry about. Sherry, you should have seen it. I knocked him out with sex. Whenever he slowed down, I started working on him again. He was tired hours ago. But I just wouldn't let him rest. Not until he finally collapsed."
"How awful for you. Oh, I hate it. Just thinking of you in his arms makes we want to scream."
"I know, darling. But how else could I get to you? Anyway, we're safe now. I did a good job on him. He's out like a light."
"You're positive?"
"Absolutely. Another caper like that last one would have probably killed him. So give me your mouth, your sweet-"
"Wait. If he's really knocked out, then we've got till morning, haven't we? I've got something to say first. Won't you listen?"
"All right. But make it short."
"Uh-huh. Short. That's what's bothering me, don't you see? Angela, everything we do is like that. Short. A minute here, a minute there. Because you belong to him, not to me. And I can't stand it."
"I hate it just as much as you do. I hate being sneaky about loving you. Sure, we have to make it short, we've got no choice."
"Yes, we do. Run away with me."
"What?"
"Not so loud. And don't act so surprised. You must have thought of it, too. I can't go on living without you. Can you live without me?"
"N-no ..."
Then we've got to. It's the only way. Before you go to South America. Before I get shipped off to Switzerland. Leave him, Angela, leave him and come with me."
"Honey, where? How? What about money? How far do you think we'd get before he caught up with us?"
"Far enough. I don't care. Even if we have to starve. Even if we have to spend our lives just-"
"Darling, be reasonable. You can't live on love, it just won't last. Being broke is no picnic. Believe me, I've seen it happen."
"We'll manage somehow."
"No. Not without money. And it's his money. The clothes we wear, the food we eat, the house we live in-it's all his."
"Then we'll steal some. Only it won't really be stealing, will it? After all, it's our money, too. You're his wife. I'm his daughter. So it belongs to us. Whatever we take will be-"
"Hush, dear. That's nonsense. Even if I agreed with you, how could we do it? Forge his signature on a check? He never keeps much cash around. No, the idea is just plain silly."
"I-I suppose you're right."
"Now let's do what I came here for, shall we? I didn't wear myself out back there just to sit here and talk. So no more crazy schemes, huh? Kiss me and just forget everything else."
And in the darkness, Angela found the soft young lips and blocked them with her own, forestalling any more chatter. She was a new woman again, brimming with enthusiasm as they squirmed and writhed together, flesh against intimate flesh.
Sherry giggled wildly. "Cunts. Let's rub cunts."
"Darling ... "
Legs interlocked. Cunt slithered upon cunt. But the mood was one of feverish insanity, and a moment later the irrepressible youngster wriggled around, darting like a striking serpent, plunging her head into the passion-drenched hollow between Angela's thighs.
"I'll suck your cunt till you scream!"
"Suck me ... yes ... you little darling ... but if I do scream, you'll never hear it. I'll be screaming right into your cunt."
"Mmm ... "
And then Angela craned her neck to reach the place, the delectable place, straining to nuzzle up inside the slippery-sweet slit and give her tongue freedom to lap the precious flesh. It slid over her face, inundating her nose and mouth, swallowing her in the upside-down little pool. And she knew then and there that it wasn't within her power to deny this child anything. The world, the moon, the stars, whatever the little darling wanted. Just as long as they could go on making love like this. Passionately. Ravenously. With fingers and mouths and bodies. Until at last the end came and their lust rose like a huge tidal wave to overwhelm them in a maelstrom of madness ...
Madness?
"Do it to him again. Angela. When you go back there."
"Hmm?"
"Sex. Give it to him. More than he can take."
"But-but why?"
Sherry's whisper was harsh, urgent. "Don't you know?"
That was all. Angela knew, though. Madness. The madness of a love too great for earthly conventions. And yet she didn't feel crazy. She wasn't even shocked. It certainly made more sense than running away, didn't it? Besides, what could she do but obey? Her obsession was like a fever in the blood.
Anyway, the enormity of it precluded thought. And when the time came, her mind was a blank. So it was easy. Easy to douse herself with more perfume. Easy to stir the man out of his slumber. Easy to tempt him with her musky flesh. Easy to tease him into a responsive furor of excitement. Easy to fan the flames of desire to the point where only someone insulated by total detachment could withstand such a holocaust and remain alive.
And poor Felix, alas, had no such insulation. Nor did he have the kind of heart capable of holding out against the perfumed wiles of a beautiful young wife. His heart was his weakness.
So it was easy ...
Until that final moment when her brain functioned again and snapped her back into reality and she remembered only too clearly who she was and what she was doing and why she was doing it. Then, of course, it wasn't so easy. But he was already dead.
Chapter Sixteen
It was pretty weird. From her room, Sherry could hear the men's voices downstairs. Checking the value of the furniture and paintings, probably. Everything was going to be sold. Even the bed she was sitting on. What a scandal!
It still didn't seem possible that a man as rich as Felix Bartholomew could have been a swindler. But it was true. True beyond a shadow of a doubt. The newspapers and broadcasters were having a field day. In his Wall Street career, the financial wizard had bilked the public out of millions, and now all the records of the past were coming to light. It was likely that he would go down in history as one of the biggest crooks of all time.
The case was too complicated for Sherry to understand. But the upshot was painfully evident. Every dollar in the dead man's estate, every piece of property-right down to the last stick of furniture-was tied up in a legal action by the government. And there wasn't a chance that it would be used for any purpose other than to satisfy, at least partially, the demands of irate stockholders. So the widow and the daughter were left penniless.
What rankled even deeper was the fact that only the timing of his death could have brought it all to the surface. He had played his cards close to the vest. And if he hadn't died, none of this would have been known. The last deal he was working on would have put him in clover for life.
Sherry shuddered. No wonder Angela had packed her bag and run. Just looking at one another was enough to make them sick. Oh well, good riddance. It just wasn't meant to be. Anyway, her stepmother wasn't important, she figured, she had to .think about herself now. Where would a young girl wind up after such a mess, in some orphans' home? Hmm. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe there would be some cunt to play with ...
Oh shit, that was ridiculous! After all, she did have a friend, a very rich friend, too. Or soon-to-be rich, that was for sure. Kim Huber would inherit a lot of money in a few years. And meanwhile, how about that European study-year idea?
The thought was exciting. Putting the fat kid through her paces had been fun, Sherry recalled, more fun than she had realized at the time. And now it was all coming back to her, the hot thrill of their strange relationship, the joy of conquest, of command-even the pleasure of cracking a whip over that big plump ass. Why worry about going to an orphanage when she had a friend like that to fall back on? All it would take was a phone call and a little visit ...
It was an odd feeling to be so strapped for money. Angela wondered how she would ever learn to watch her pennies again. All part of paying for her sin, no doubt-oh yes, she was already paying for it. And so was Sherry. There was only hatred and fear and suspicion between them now. They both knew why. Murder. An ugly word. An uglier deed. And even if no one could prove it, the very shadow hung over their lives.
Felix was dead. And so was love. Could the fire of ecstasy turn to ashes so quickly? Was love so tenuous a thing? Certainly their love had been real. They had conspired to kill for it. And yet it had turned out to be only a prelude to loathing. No, she didn't ever want to see that brat again. Not that she would have to, now that the tie was irrevocably severed. They had played the game and lost; what else was there?
Anyway, she had to get herself straightened out now. Take up a new life. Make an honest attempt to reform. Only there was too much on her mind to begin yet, too many memories; no, she just wasn't ready to face the world for a while. Feeling like this, she didn't even want to be alone. Maybe some old friend would be kind enough to shelter her for a few days. After all, she still had her little black book of phone numbers. Some nice guy, perhaps?
Oh hell, there weren't any nice guys, there were just studs looking for a lay. A lot of help that would be. She needed sympathy and comfort, the kind of sympathy and comfort she could only get from a good-hearted woman. Hmm. Denise? Her old showbiz buddy? It might prove embarrassing, though, she had been pretty snooty not returning that last phone call. Uh-huh. Her sins were sure finding her out. The sin of snobbish pride, a comparatively small one-but she had to pay for all of them, didn't she? Might as well start getting used to it. A bunch of little ones would be easier than that great big one ...
Damn! She didn't want to think about that; will I have murder on my mind for the rest of my life? That was what she needed a friend for in the first place, somebody to keep her from brooding. Especially tonight of all nights. Time for sympathy and comfort.
There was a phone booth on the corner. Angela checked her book for the number, dropped a coin in the slot and twisted the dial, summoning up all her courage. She recognized the voice that answered and felt better immediately. No pain. Nor did she hesitate to make a clean breast of it, apologizing to her dear old girl-pal and all but pleading for an invitation.
"So you're a widow now, huh?"
"Please don't tease me. Denise?"
"I'm right here. Tell me something. How do you look? Are you still the same yummy cunt you used to be? That's what I used to call you, remember? Yummy."
"I-I haven't changed much."
"No? Well, I've got news for you. I have."
"Oh? You've changed? In what way?"
"All kinds of ways. I've learned a lot since those days, you stuck-up bitch. But why don't you come and see for yourself? It's okay, baby. You're invited."
"You're sure there's room for me?" Now that the invitation had been offered, Angela began to waver. "I wouldn't want to-"
"There's room. And if there isn't, I'll make room. I might even let you sleep at the foot of my bed. Come on! Maybe we'll both surprise each other. Got a pencil handy? Take down my address so you won't get lost."
Denise was probably teasing again, trying to act high-and-mighty just to get back at her. But who could tell? And as she scribbled the address and left the phone booth, Angela had the queasy sensation of quicksand crawling up her legs. Dangerous. But she was already in too deep to pull out.
"Hey, is your name really Felicia?"
"Uh-huh. But don't call me that. I don't like it."
"Felicia. It's kind of cute. You were named after your father, huh? He must have been quite a guy. Listen. My uncle likes you. But things aren't the same now, you know? If we travel together now, you'd be kind of a paid companion to me-that's what Uncle George says. Almost like a servant. He said I ought to make that clear to you from the beginning."
"A servant? You mean a maid, Kim?"
"Oh shit, don't let the title upset you. We'll figure all that out when I come into my own money. But meanwhile, just to please my uncle ... "
Sherry shrugged and then nodded. "I understand."
"Of course, you'll have to please me, too. I'm the kind of girl who needs strict supervision. But you already know that. Only now you can't get lazy when I'm in the mood, right?"
"I've got a strong right arm. It won't get lazy."
"You won't be able to throw me out of the bathroom, either."
"Oh. Well, okay. You're the boss."
"Uh-huh. I'm glad you said it. I'm the boss. Hmm. Maybe we'll even switch around sometimes."
"Switch around? Kim, I don't understand."
"Switching parts, that's what. Then you'll see how it feels to be a slave. Just for fun, you know? Change of pace. I might make you kneel and lick my feet or something like that. For instance, uh, what if I wanted you to kiss my ass right this minute? Would you do it. My big fat lesbian ass?"
"Sure. What's so bad about that?"
"You'd stick your lesbian tongue up my asshole? Oh, don't worry, I'm not asking you to do it now. This isn't the time or the place for our kind of fun. I just want to know how you feel, that's all."
Sherry smiled, gritting her teeth but managing to utter the necessary words. "Whatever you say." It made her wonder what she was letting herself in for. "I'm at your service." Her stomach churned in revulsion. But she recognized a spark of excitement, too, just enough to make her curious. Wasn't it weird to be so completely in someone else's power?
